


One Second

by pennflinn



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Episode: s01e14 Fallout, Gen, Hurt Barry, Kidnapping, Medical Experimentation, Team as Family, Whump, Why Settle for One Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennflinn/pseuds/pennflinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Since learning about time travel, Barry had been thinking a lot about parallel universes. Just as he blacked out, he was decided: this was, definitively, the worse one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Happy one week until the return of The Flash.
> 
> This story came about from an ask on Tumblr requesting an AU of a moment in "Fallout"-a prompt which got thoroughly out of hand. What resulted is an experiment, something longer than the drabble I'd originally intended.
> 
> Warning: This fic contains light medical whump and mentions of character death. If that makes you squeamish as it often does me, proceed with caution! This is also my first time writing a "kidnapping" fic, so please bear with me.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Flash and its characters/dialogue do not belong to me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Barry thought of stars, the way the shards exploded and twinkled in the air. His adrenaline still pumped through him—punching six grown men to the ground, even with super-speed, was not as fun as it might sound—and it made his senses super-sharp.

He was blessed, or cursed, with the ability to process things faster, clearer. Hyper-sensitivity, Caitlin had called it, the ability to catalog things in his mind at a speed that matched his new physical prowess.  _War and Peace_  was no daunting task when you could flip fifty pages in one second and still retain comprehension.

And sure, he'd had plenty of experience crashing into walls in his first few days with his powers (and he'd had many bloody noses to prove it), but now that he was used to it, he found it easy to dodge the buildings and cars that suddenly came up at 700 miles an hour.

None of that mattered now, because in the time it had taken for him to contemplate his options, those sparkling stars, suspended in slow-motion, pointed toward him.

Hyper-sensitivity be damned. This was going to hurt.

Sure enough, when he turned to shield himself, the shards of metal came zooming down faster than he could even grasp, and his body jolted at a hundred simultaneous points of impact.

It wasn't even like fire; truth be told, he couldn't find a word strong enough to describe the sensation of a hundred pieces of metal piercing his body at once. Instantly, he went rigid, his mind blanking and his legs giving out. The cold, wet pavement met his back, seeping through his uniform. It wasn't enough. Every bit of him was screaming.

Suddenly Ronnie was above him, trying to offer some kind of reassurance. But what could he do? The man hadn't even been scratched by the falling shards—it seemed like they'd been designed specifically for Barry.

"…attracted to kinetic energy," General Eiling was saying, confirming Barry's suspicions. His voice was filtered through a high-pitched, frantic ringing. "Firestorm was tonight's main objective, but getting you…well, that's just gravy."

 _No_.

Barry struggled to sit upright, but even that slight movement sent shocks through his body. Ronnie put a hand on his arm as he groaned.

Surely Caitlin and Cisco and Wells would be there any minute. Surely they'd tracked his signal, heard him screaming, seen his vitals spike,  _something_ …

Around him, soldiers were picking themselves up from the ground, shaking themselves off, and everything was taking so long, too long—his senses were slowed so much that the world pulsed frame by frame like a heartbeat, clicks of a stop-motion film.

Where were they?

* * *

_Almost on cue, the screech of tires sounded at the end of the alley. There was no time to register the look of dumb shock on Eiling's face. Everything was still too blurry with pain, and everything was happening too fast even for a speedster._

_The Star Labs van skidded to a halt halfway down the alley, and Ronnie seized the opportunity. Taking advantage of the confusion, he leapt forward and decked Eiling in the face, sending the General stumbling backward._

_The van door crashed open. Caitlin's face, terror-stricken, appeared._

_"_ _Get in!" she shouted._

_Barry wanted to say something—he couldn't move, they should go on without him—but Ronnie grasped him under the arms and heaved. He howled instead._

_The next thing he knew, he was on the floor of the van, his back slick with sweat against the carpeted floor. Ronnie was shouting at Cisco to_ drive, drive _, as if the other man was waiting for such a signal. The van was already moving. Barry could tell, because each bump in the road sent a shockwave through him._

_Caitlin was crouched down over him, muttering something that Barry couldn't understand. He tried to focus on something, anything, else, but all he could process was the ragged gray carpet of the van._

_Suddenly, a sharp tug at his arm launched him back. He yelped, and Caitlin pulled her hands away like they'd been burned._

_"_ _Sorry, sorry," she said, panicked. "I wanted to see—they're embedded pretty deep—"_

_"_ _Faster, Cisco," Ronnie said._

_The acceleration tugged at Barry's blood. The speed, he noted blearily, was both a comfort and a disquiet. He took a deep breath, and the action forced him to scrunch up his eyes. Then Caitlin's hand was on his forehead, pulling back the mask, running through his hair soothingly._

_"_ _We're on our way to Star Labs," she said. "It'll be okay…you'll be fine."_

_And while her acting could use some work, her words did ease a small part of Barry's tension. For the first time, the gravity of what they were doing hit him, and he thought back to the situation they had just evaded. He was defeated, in pain, but at least he was there, on the floor of that van, with Cisco in the driver's seat and Caitlin kneeling beside him. On their way to Star Labs._

_"_ _It'll be okay," Caitlin said again._

_He winced at another bump in the road, then attempted a feeble smile. "Could be worse," he said._

_Perhaps his and Caitlin's acting skills were not so dissimilar._

* * *

Car tires screeched at the end of the alleyway. Eiling, Ronnie, and the soldiers all turned to face it. Barry didn't bother looking; he knew the sound of the speeding Star Labs van when he heard it.

By that time, the soldiers had fully recovered; they stood at attention at the sound of the vehicle, and Eiling's face turned nasty.

"Cut them off!" Eiling yelled. "Do it now!"

The soldiers, like little toy puppets, glided away from Barry's field of vision. Boots clunked too loudly on the pavement, each one a sharp pop, one after the other.

"No!" shouted Ronnie, immediately springing to his feet.

Then it hit Barry: those weren't boots. It was gunfire.

Ronnie looked down desperately at Barry, his face sharp with indecision. Barry groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the gunfire. "Go," he said. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Caitlin, Cisco, and Wells in the van, the white exterior and the windshield riddled with bullets. "Don't worry about me. Go."

Ronnie was off, dare he say it, in a flash—but not before decking Eiling in the face.

As the General struggled to his feet, Barry tried again to raise himself up to a sitting position. Now that he was effectively a human pincushion, super-speed wasn't doing him any favors. Every tiny movement was felt throughout his entire body, his nerves a chain reaction that sparked like downed power lines. The logical part of his brain knew, also, that his healing factor was working against him, that if he didn't get the shards out of his body soon he would be in for a very unpleasant removal process further down the line.

Shouts from down the alley distracted him, kept his awareness flared; what was happening? Had Ronnie managed to apprehend the soldiers before they killed his friends?

One second. One second earlier, maybe Caitlin and Cisco could have saved them. One second earlier, before the soldiers could have a chance to recover. One second earlier, maybe things would have been different. Now the Star Labs van was at the end of the alley, his friends were being shot at, and he was lying in a puddle on the ground with a very upset General looming over him.

"Well, Flash, isn't this a spectacular turn-around," Eiling said, wiping a sleeve across his bloodied mouth. Were there two of him? Barry blinked. "Maybe things are looking up. For me, at least." He motioned sharply, and two of the remaining soldiers crouched low and heaved Barry up by the armpits.

His stiff body screamed, and so did he. Powerless to resist, he watched the ground move as he was dragged forward. His grip on consciousness slowly weakened, and even as he was thrown forward, he wasn't sure he was lucid enough to care about where they were taking him.

Since learning about time travel, Barry had been thinking a lot about parallel universes. Just as he blacked out, he was decided: this was, definitively, the worse one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please drop me a review to let me know your thoughts-I always love chatting Flash. The next chapter should be up soon!
> 
> \- Penn


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for all the wonderful responses to the first chapter of this story! I'm partial to the "post every two days" formula, but you were all so supportive and eager for more, I couldn't resist. So, without further ado, here is chapter two!

Cisco screeched around another corner—he wasn’t even trying to be inconspicuous now, and Caitlin was happy she’d skipped dinner that night.

“Right up here—no, not that one— _here_.”

Cisco, a bat out of hell when it came to pursuit driving, twirled the wheel so expertly Caitlin wouldn’t be surprised if he’d miraculously trained at some save-your-friend-in-clunky-company-vehicle academy. With Cisco, you never knew.

“Get down!” Cisco yelled. On instinct, and with a reaction time unfortunately bred from recent experience, Caitlin dropped. A second later, three holes appeared in the windshield of the van, spraying glass everywhere. Three more bullets, in quick succession, ripped through the side window.

Heart in her throat, Caitlin looked to Cisco with wide eyes. _What do we do?_

Cisco snapped his seatbelt off to get lower and shoved Caitlin bodily into the back of the van. She pressed herself flat to the floor, her forehead crashing against the thin, worn carpet at the sounds of more bullets. The carpet was light gray, like beach sand. She didn’t know why, in coming weeks, that detail stood out to her in the chaos.

Somebody outside of the vehicle yelled, a deep roar that sent a chill across Caitlin’s skin. A few more bullets pierced the exterior of the van, but commotion had begun outside of it.

“It’s Ronnie!” said Cisco, who had dared to peek up through the damaged windshield. “Cait—Ronnie’s out there!”

At that, she shoved herself to her knees, ignored Cisco’s shout of warning, and shrugged open the side door of the van.

Yes, it was a wholly stupid thing to do. Did she care? No.

“Ronnie!” she cried, and her ex-fiance looked up. One soldier lay unresponsive on the ground. Two more staggered in recovery. Ronnie was holding one of the soldier’s guns, and, by the looks of it, he’d already gotten in a few good swings.

“Cait!” Ronnie shouted. “Barry—he’s down the alley still. He needs help!”

With agility that rivaled Barry’s, Caitlin leapt from her vehicle and took off down the alley. There was no time to think; no time to process Cisco’s incoherent shouts or the spray of bullets at her feet. Chunks of hot asphalt grazed her ankles from points of impact, but she hardly felt it. A black van, the antithesis of their rescue vehicle, lay in wait at the other end of the alley. Even as she sprinted toward it, toward more men with guns, the heavy doors slammed shut. Inside, she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of red.

The engine of the van revved to life, and the sound turned her legs elastic, snapped her forward like a rubber band.

_Not Barry. Not Barry._

One lone figure, a face she recognized as General Eiling’s, stood in front of the van. With one hand on the passenger door, he watched her come, still and nonchalant like a waiting predator. As if she were a gazelle, sprinting toward the claws of a cheetah.

“Dr. Snow,” he said.

No time to waste breath by responding. Caitlin pushed forward, bridging the distance between them in a second. Everything slowed for a moment: she threw a punch, Eiling moved. Her fist glanced off of the side of the van, and before she could even register that pain, the General spun her back around and sent her to the ground with a swift uppercut to the chin. Sprawled on the ground, dazed, she heard the passenger door open.

 “A pleasure meeting you, Dr. Snow. Thank you for this valuable contribution to the scientific community.”

The slam of a door. The squealing of tires. By the time Caitlin had scrambled to her knees, the van had vanished.

“Cait! Hey, Cait, are you alright?”

Nothing hurt anymore. Not her hand, not her jaw. Everything was numb.

“They took him,” she said as Ronnie helped her to her feet. “They took Barry.”

* * *

 

_"Caitlin, no!” Cisco yelled. The bullets had stopped hitting the van, but he didn’t quite trust his luck enough to take a chance at rising. He remained hunched down, one shoulder digging into the dashboard, staring at the space in the back of the van where Caitlin had just been._

_He’d never known her to be reckless. He’d never known her to run blazing into a fight. But, then again, he’d known the Caitlin Snow pre-Barry Allen._

_Yells echoed just outside of the vehicle—Ronnie was still fighting with the three armed soldiers. Although for whatever reason they had stopped using their weapons, it still sounded as though Ronnie was outnumbered. Was Caitlin out there too, helping him? Or had she gone alone after Barry? Either way, the scenario looked grim. Panic shoved its cold fingers down Cisco’s throat, choking him._

_He could stay in this car, huddled like an animal against the steering wheel, waiting for his friends to (hopefully) return. Classic Cisco. Wait out the danger. Crawl out when the explosions had died down. Lock down the particle accelerator. Leave Ronnie in the dust and save his own skin._

_Classic Cisco._

_His nails dug bloody crescents into his palms._

_Not today._

_Although he could hardly breathe, let alone think, he shouldered his way out of the van and rushed toward the noise._

_Ronnie had one soldier in a headlock, one more unconscious on the ground. The third, rallying like mad, hefted his gun, although how we would ever get a clear shot, Cisco wasn’t sure. Maybe he didn’t care about a clear shot—maybe he was so programmed by a mission that he didn’t care if his companion got caught in the crossfire. Maybe he would kill Ronnie even if that meant sacrificing his teammate. Ronnie wouldn’t even see the bullet coming._

_“Hey, douche patrol,” Cisco yelled without thinking. The soldier’s head snapped his direction. “Have you always taken delight in working for a psychopath? Or are you just_ that _desperate for a paycheck?”_

_The distraction worked. Ronnie finished off his current assailant, turning around on the spot to charge the last soldier._

_Unfortunately, as was the case in much of Cisco’s life, timing was everything._

_The soldier had already fired off three shots—_ bang, bang, bang— _and one, two, three, they struck Cisco in the center of the chest._

_He couldn’t feel the impact. For a moment he didn’t even move, rooted there as if frozen in time. Boromir at least had the decency to fall dramatically to his knees first, but Cisco’s mind could produce nothing heroic, nothing sexily dramatic, nothing inspiring._

Damn, they have good aim, _was all he could think as he watched the blood run down the front of his shirt. His favorite shirt._

_He knew, by the way everything went fuzzy, that he was dead. He knew it before he hit the ground, and it was the last thing he thought before his world was wiped away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a review if you have an extra moment. Your thoughts mean a lot to me, especially now that the ball is rolling.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> \- Penn


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better way to celebrate your birthday than by posting a chapter of your own story-at least, that's my reasoning. Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews! I know these chapters tend to be short, but that's just how I roll, unfortunately.
> 
> Now, maybe we'll take a peek inside that pesky military facility...

Barry had been thinking a lot about parallel universes lately, and as he jerked to wakefulness, a subconscious part of him ached furiously for a better one. The gray walls and cement floors were unfamiliar, and it took him a moment to adjust to his new reality.

The second thing he realized was that he was exceptionally cold, even in his full-body suit that he still wore. Thirdly, he realized that he couldn't move his arms or legs—which, in hindsight, probably should have been the first thing to catalog.

"Rise and shine, Mr. Allen."

Well, that wasn't promising.

"Wha—" Barry started groggily as Eiling swam into his field of vision.

"We're not playing a game of secrets here,  _Flash_ ," Eiling continued. Before Barry could flinch away—like that would've done any good—Eiling reached forward. His fingers, encased in cracked leather gloves, hooked under the leather covering his cheekbones and pulled the mask up. The hood fell back, and Barry, feeling more exposed than he ever had in his life, stared at Eiling face-to-face.

"There are no secrets in science," Eiling said, smirking. With a chill, Barry thought back to one of his first missions and Caitlin's scolding:  _In science, we share._

_What kind of science was this?_

"Your purpose here is twofold," Eiling continued, further solidifying the hypothesis in Barry's fuzzy brain that the general was some kind of mind-reader. "I'll admit, your arrival has come as a bit of a shock to all of us—we were fully prepared for Firestorm tonight. However, that's not to say we haven't been prepping for you for months." His hand came up again, this time to pluck at one of the metal fragments still embedded in Barry's chest.

To be frank, Barry had been blissfully detached from the matter of those spikes in his skin, but the movement of just one thrust him headfirst into the icy water of full awareness. He jerked violently, but he couldn't move away: he was strapped by the ankles, wrists, and upper arms to a near-vertical metal board, much like the one they used to store his suit. Claustrophobia and panic set in, and his skin began to ripple with tiny vibrations.

"It's interesting," Eiling said, holding up the bloody spike in front of his face like it was an exotic flower. "You know, to be honest, we hadn't expected accelerated healing. We'd guessed, of course, but this—" He motioned at the veritable pincushion of Barry's chest. "This was an enlightening experiment all of its own. Imagine the surprise we faced when we tried to extract one of these fragments and found that you'd already begun to heal around them?"

"What do you want?" Barry asked through clenched teeth.

"Like I said," Eiling replied, "your use here is twofold. One, your unique set of skills presents a valuable opportunity to the scientific—and military—community. Your physiology could be the key to advanced warfare." He paused. "Two, I hope you'll be cooperative in helping me locate Firestorm, who was the real goal of tonight's mission. Your intel regarding Star Labs would be…invaluable."

"So, in other words, you want to experiment on me and then torture me for information?" Barry said. "Even for a military guy, that's pretty cliché."

"As I suggested," Eiling said, "your cooperation will make things easier on all of us."

Barry couldn't help it; though he couldn't move, he gathered saliva under his tongue and spat. Eiling hardly flinched, instead adopting an ugly, disgusted look, like he was disappointed in the crudity of it all. Then, without warning, he struck forward, his gloved fist meeting Barry's face at the cheekbone. Barry's head snapped to the side, but his rush of defiance masked the hurt.

"Consider it your first test," Eiling said to someone behind Barry's left shoulder. "How long does a bruise last with accelerated healing factor? Feel free to replicate if the first sample proves insufficient." And at that, he turned sharply, without another word to Barry, and exited the room. The metal door slammed, and it echoed through Barry's ears for hours.

* * *

The drive back to the lab was needlessly long, and dead silent. While Ronnie had managed to subdue all three soldiers that had apprehended the van, the vehicle was still wrought with bullet holes, forcing them to take back roads the entire way. Police sirens wailed in the distance.

"Sorry," Cisco had mumbled as Ronnie and Caitlin climbed back into the van. They'd found him still hunched under the dashboard of the van, frozen with fear. "Maybe if I would've followed you, gone out to help…"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Caitlin had said bitterly, rubbing her jaw. "We needed you here, as our getaway driver. Don't beat yourself up about it."

As if they'd needed a getaway driver.

Cisco had been silent ever since.

Wells looked, if anything, livid when they walked defeatedly into the lab. His words came between clenched teeth. "What. Happened."

Cisco moved swiftly forward a chair and hunched forward, burying his hands in his hair.

"It's my fault, sir," said Ronnie, moving forward before Caitlin could say a word. "General Eiling was after me. He and his men apprehended us in Jitters."

Wells' sharp eyes darted from one forlorn face to another. "Where is Barry? Everything on the monitors went haywire, and then I lost him. I'd—perhaps incorrectly—assumed that he would be with you."

"Believe me, we tried," Caitlin said sourly, planting herself at the main desk and rubbing idly at her chin. If it had been anyone else, she would have gotten an ice pack from the lab, but for her, that idea seemed wildly self-serving. She relished the pain. It was the only thing she could do now to feel any less guilty.

"Barry in General Wade Eiling's hands is not a good thing," Wells said, to which Caitlin mentally replied,  _Obviously_. Wells looked around at them expectantly. "So? Are you going to sit around and do nothing?"

"What can we do?" Cisco said. "It's not like Eiling's gonna leave us a ransom note. And all of Barry's specs, GPS, everything, are offline or out of range."

"I'd suggest we start with traffic cameras, surveillance footage." Wells wheeled toward one of the computers beside Caitlin. "Maybe we can get an ID on Eiling's vehicle, follow whatever direction it was heading.

"Barry is hurt pretty bad," Ronnie cut in. "He was hit by one of Eiling's inventions. He's not going to be of much help escaping if we do find him."

" _When_  we find him," Wells corrected. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, Cisco—"

He motioned to the third computer. After a moment of hesitation, Cisco swung himself to his feet and joined them at the computer bay. Though still obviously shaken, he had the grit of new determination the lines of his face.

"Right," he said, tapping a few times nervously on the desk before reaching toward the mouse. "We'll start with the cameras near Jitters, see if we can get a good shot—"

Wells looked up at Ronnie. "Mr. Raymond, I believe you can be of assistance in locating and contacting Dr. Stein. I fear he may not be safe where he is, if Eiling is still on a hunt for Firestorm."

Ronnie cocked his head. "I don't think that will be necessary."

Caitlin frowned, but her thought process was interrupted by a timely knock at the doorway to the lab. Martin Stein, looking out of place and exceedingly uncomfortable, stepped forward into the room.

"I don't think Mr. Raymond and myself are as…distinctive as we had hoped." He glanced around at each of their creased, worried faces, and his molded to match. "Am I interrupting something?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are great. Thanks for reading and (hopefully) reviewing! See you in a few days--
> 
> Penn


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New day, new chapter. Bear with me as we enter the realm of questionable science and questionable medicine. Damnit, Jim, I'm a writer, not a doctor!
> 
> Enjoy!

_Sparks shot from beneath Barry's booted feet. His hand throbbed already from punching down so many of the soldiers, but all senses were on high alert and drowned out the immediacy of the hurt. He looked now at General Eiling, whose face was plastered with an ugly grin. The look triggered warnings in Barry's head, and when the General pulled a futuristic-looking cube from his pocket, Barry didn't hesitate: he rushed forward and sent Eiling and the cube flying backward._

_At that precise moment, a familiar screech of tires sounded at the end of the alley, and the Star Labs van barreled down the narrow lane toward them. As soon as it was close, the door swung open and Caitlin's half-terrified, half-relieved face emerged._

_"_ _Get in!" she yelled. Ronnie had no hesitation, clambering up and pulling Caitlin back inside. Barry, for his part, couldn't resist dashing toward the fallen Eiling and scooping up the cube. He tucked it protectively under his arm as he leapt into the van, which sped away instantly._

_"What is that?" Caitlin asked as soon as she and Ronnie had re-settled themselves Ronnie kept his hand protectively on Caitlin's arm, Barry noticed._

_"_ _This?" Barry said, holding up the cube. "No idea. But it can't be good news if Eiling has it, right?"_

_He tucked it away next to the door of the van, hesitant to jostle it any more than necessary. Whatever it was, it could be dangerous. He was sure Cisco, at least, would have fun tampering with it._

_Streetlights flickered one by one into the darkness of the van, perpetual ignition and fading of orange and yellow. Barry removed the hood of his costume from his sweaty hair; Cisco slowed the van to an even pace; Caitlin and Ronnie pressed their shoulders close._

_All breathed a collective breath._

_"_ _Well," Barry said. "That could've been worse."_

* * *

By the third try, Barry's skin had stopped vibrating enough for the needle to pierce his skin. The marks of the last two attempts, while small, dotted the crook of his arm, crimson freckles. He looked forlornly down at the discarded piece of fabric from the arm of his costume, which had been cut off just above the elbow. Cisco was going to kill him.

One of the scientists taped the needle and thin tube securely to his arm, and Barry swallowed. Though his stress levels were certainly not at a low point, he couldn't even force himself to vibrate. That, along with the freshness of the first few needle pricks, confirmed his suspicion that the cold room was intentional. Not only his super-speed, but his healing factor as well, was crippled.

He couldn't decide if that was a bad thing or not—it was beneficial, at least, for the metal spikes still embedded in his chest, arm, and neck. He could still feel blood slipping down his stomach, but a little bleeding was likely better than what would happen if he healed completely around the metal.

"You know," he said, "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to draw someone's blood without their consent."

The scientist didn't even look up.

"It's also fairly illegal," Barry continued, watching the thin tube connected to his arm turn red, "to do psychotic experiments on said blood and the non-consenting owner of it." The truth was, he didn't  _know_  what they could do with his blood. Could they actually develop some kind of serum to create super-soldiers? It all seemed like science fiction—but, then again, he was living in a science fiction world.

His anxiety was kicking up, and he again tried his restraints. Nothing. Forget Cisco. Caitlin was going to have his head if she found out Eiling had gotten ahold of his blood.

"How do you justify this?" he burst, desperate to talk some reason into the scientists. "How do you even pretend that what you're doing is ethical?"

"It would be best for you not to talk," said the scientist. Barry was reminded disturbingly of Caitlin—curled dark hair, white lab coat rolled once at the sleeves.

"I don't get it," Barry continued. "You know the cold slows down everything. What's the point of studying my blood now? It's freezing in here."

At that moment, Eiling strode through the open doorway, still dressed in his army greens and wielding a menacing-looking rod.

"The effects are temporary, I'm sure. It should warm up pretty quick."

And, without taking his eyes off of Barry, he reached for the thermostat and turned it down a few more notches.

"I know what you want," Barry said, trying not to shiver. "But I wasn't given these powers to be used as some kind of weapon."

"But aren't you?" Eiling asked, stepping closer slowly. "Like it or not, you're the greatest weapon this city has ever seen. You launch yourself at whatever cause you feel deserves retribution. I am simply doing the same."

Barry lifted his head from the backboard, straining forward toward Eiling. "I do what is necessary to stop people like you from taking advantage of innocent lives."

Eiling sighed. "I joined the military when I was twenty years old, Mr. Allen. My father had me convinced that our greatest threat was the Soviets. Our greatest fear…nuclear war. Then came terrorism and Ebola." He walked idly toward the station where Barry's blood was dripping into a bag. "And now, it's the age of metahumans. Soldiers enhanced by new science, new research, new possibilities. Soldiers who can run at the speed of sound, take out enemies before they have time to blink. Soldiers who can heal in five minutes."

"I would gladly die before I see my powers perverted like that," Barry said, sneering.

"Good," said Eiling. "Because you will die,  _Flash._  How soon I let that happen, though, is entirely up to you. You tell me where Martin Stein and Ronald Raymond are hiding, and I promise you this will be much easier."

Barry stubbornly rested his head back. "Go to hell."

The statement, admittedly an empty threat while Barry was immobile, simply glanced off of Eiling's skin. His eyes flickered slightly, but whether from annoyance or sick amusement, Barry couldn't tell.

"They say that you were struck by lightning, Flash," Eiling said, and Barry realized what was about to happen a second before it did. With the flick of a thumb, Eiling activated the rod, and the end sparked and crackled with blue electricity. "Why don't we see if we can replicate that experience?"

Barry swallowed thickly, his mouth as dry as cotton. The sizzling rod moved inches away from his face.

"Funny," Eiling said, with the air of someone who hadn't experienced anything remotely funny in years. "Last time I did this was to a gorilla."

And he shoved the rod into the center of Barry's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I've loved reading your comments so far. Can't believe it's only a few days until the new season!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Flash Day! I hope you are all as excited as I am for the premiere tonight...the hype is real. As a celebration, here's Chapter 5!

A muscle in Cisco's jaw twitched sporadically. It was only by merit of how long she'd known him that Caitlin knew just the level of stress that indicated.

"Nothing?" she asked. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them into the trash. When the metal lid clanged shut, Ronnie, propped against the wall, visibly started. Also fairly stressed, then.

"Nothing," Cisco echoed. A harsh exhale followed. "Maybe if Felicity were here she could find something more, help re-boot the GPS in Barry's suit—but it looks like Eiling cut all street cameras in a ten mile radius." He looked up sharply. "Maybe if we  _called_  Felicity…"

"Maybe if Felicity had the speed of The Flash. But Barry is losing precious time. Time that we don't have at our disposal," said Wells impatiently, wheeling around the desk to face Caitlin. "Dr. Snow, anything new to share?"

Professor Stein, following Caitlin out of the exam room, answered: "I'm still inside Ronald."

Caitlin and Cisco shared a look; both were thinking the same thing, but vocalizing a joke in the current situation seemed cruel and selfish.

"Beta, Alpha, Theta, Delta…all of Ronnie's and Stein's brain waves are perfectly in sync," Caitlin clarified. "It's impossible, but it's happening. They're still…connected. Somehow."

"Great," Ronnie said. "How do we fix that?"

"One problem at a time," Wells said. "Professor Stein, we're going to need you to stay here at the lab, at least until we find Eiling and recover Barry."

"Look," Stein said, forehead creasing, "if this Eiling is as dangerous as you say, then I need to warn Clarissa."

"Not a chance," Caitlin said. "You and Ronnie—your Firestorm research—you're on the cusp of a scientific revolution. There's no way Eiling will let you walk free in the city. What happens to Ronnie if you get captured or killed? You obviously have some kind of physical…link."

Scientific revolution. Stein's Firestorm research. It was all clicking in Caitlin's brain, and she now fully understood Eiling's sickening parting words to her:  _Thank you for this valuable contribution to the scientific community._ Barry. Barry was her contribution.

"I can't just stay here," Stein protested.

"Dude," Cisco interjected. "He's gonna kidnap you."

"I don't—"

"Wait," Wells said. He rolled his bottom lip under his teeth in thought. Caitlin roused herself from her disturbing visions and watched the lightbulb go off above the scientist's head as he studied Stein. "Maybe a kidnapping is exactly what we need."

* * *

_"_ _Ow," Cisco said, for the fiftieth time that night. "Ow, Caitlin._ Ow. _"_

_"_ _It'll be fine," he'd said just an hour earlier. "Look, I'll disable the firing mechanism first. You know me. I'm safe."_

_Barry had been forcibly reminded of the incident with a certain boomerang careening wildly through the lab, but he had kept his mouth shut._

_So Cisco had locked himself up with their recovered cube, grinning in a slightly mad way. Not soon after, his scream had propelled Barry forward like a bullet from a gun._

_Now, as Cisco lay on the examination table, a light shining on the dozens of metal fragments sticking out of his skin, Barry wondered if leaving him alone with a military-grade weapon had been the best idea._

_"_ _This is just like that time I stepped on a sea urchin." Cisco moaned in pain as Caitlin yanked another needle out of his neck. Barry caught it with trembling hands in a metal bowl. "Except so,_ so  _much worse."_

* * *

He didn't know when it all stopped, except he knew the creeping awareness of the stiffness of his jaw, the ringing in his ears, the residual tingling all over his skin. Had he passed out? It felt like he was catching up to time, a time that had raced far ahead of him.

"Clearly you're not ready to talk," Eiling said. "Looks like you need your beauty rest. Maybe a little time alone in the cold will give you the incentive to open up."

"You wish," Barry panted. "You know, for a…psychotic…general, you're pretty bad…at this interrogation thing."

All of his muscles went rigid again as the rod dug into his side. His mind turned blank and white-hot with pain. Then, as soon as it had begun, it was over, and a voice dragged him back.

"—said it was urgent."

"I'm busy right now."

"Sir, it's Dr. Harrison Wells."

At that name, Barry forced his eyes open, though he didn't remember closing them. A military man stood in the doorway with a cordless phone, looking almost nervously at Barry. When Barry made hazy eye contact, the man looked quickly back at Eiling.

"Harrison Wells, eh?" Eiling gave Barry a glance and flicked off the electric rod. "Let's see just how pathetic he can be." He put the phone to his ear. "Harrison."

Barry couldn't hear the words on the other end of the line, but he could imagine Wells' terse but remarkably composed face. How long had he been here, in this military hellhole? Hours? It was hard to say for certain. However long it was, it must have been long enough for the Star Labs team to run out of options. He couldn't imagine Wells would be calling Eiling willingly. They were getting desperate. And, as much as Barry was ashamed to admit it, he was secretly glad.

"Why should I?" Eiling said. "You're a scientist, Harrison. You understand that certain results are imperative. And, I must say, your precious Barry Allen has not been very cooperative."

Barry had the urge to spit again, but his mouth was exceptionally dry, and he didn't think he'd have the energy anyway, between the cold and the constant pain. Not to mention, he didn't care for a new bruise to match the one on his face that still hadn't healed.

"You'll what, Doctor?" Eiling continued. "Put me out of business? I'd like to see you hold your own in court once your own secrets are exposed." Pause. A tiny smirk. "Interesting proposition. I like the way you think." Pause. "Of course, you'll be risking the trust of your ever-sensitive lab crew." Pause. Another smirk. "No promises as to his condition. Don't push your luck, Harrison. One hour." He hung up the phone and tossed it back to the military man. When he turned to Barry, he looked like a cat which had just caught a fat mouse. "Looks like your  _friends_  will do anything to save you," he said. He headed out the door. "Many might say they're too trusting."

A pit opened in Barry's stomach, and he sent up a silent prayer—a prayer that Wells knew what he was doing.

* * *

_When Barry breathed, it felt like his lungs iced over. He was fairly sure the human body wasn't meant to live in the temperature Eiling had designated for the room. No matter what TV shows said, being locked in a freezer, especially with numerous wounds, was not fun and games and character-building. It just sucked._

_He was just thinking he should give in to the darkness dragging him backward, give in to the promise of rest before Eiling's next visit, when a red light in the ceiling flared to life and a siren screeched. Unable to cover his ears, Barry screwed up his face against the light and the noise. Was this another one of Eiling's tactics?_

_Three seconds later, his theory was debunked._

_A figure stood in the doorway, illuminated only by the dim blue lighting of the hall and the flashing red warning. A millisecond later, he was inches away from Barry's face, and Barry's stomach flipped._

_"_ _Why are you here?" he choked out._

_The Man in Yellow smiled, blinked those hazy red eyes, said nothing. He was, as Barry had often thought, something out of a nightmare._

_This was death staring him in the face, Barry thought. This was it._

_Then he was free. The restraints holding him to the board snapped open, and he slid down toward the floor. Before he reached it, however, he was lifted. He registered a roaring wind, blurs of color, a slam of metal and a sudden chill—fresh air. The next moment, he was assaulted by bright light, a white room, emergency sirens that were somehow more trustworthy than the ones at the place he'd been held._

_Because he was home._

_Or, more specifically, in the Star Labs medical bay. Same thing._

_He breathed, feeling the ache of the shards under his skin and the confusing whirl of speed and stability, and turned his head toward the Reverse Flash. The Man in Yellow stood watching a moment more, his features indiscernible beneath the vibrating façade._

_"_ _I protect my own," the man said. His voice, too, reverberated._

_Barry wished he could grab hold of the man, force him to reveal himself, ask him what he meant—but he was gone. Where the villain had once stood, there was nothing. The emergency alarm blared, footsteps—Cisco's and Caitlin's—thundered down the hall, and a new kind of dread and chaos took the place of the old. Barry closed his eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they say, the plot is in motion. And, to continue this celebration of the premiere tonight, I'll be uploading the next chapter tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review below!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Penn


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy post-Flash Day! I just finished watching the premiere, and I am hyped! Although it feels odd to go back in time, as it were, for this fic, the premiere has given me a few ideas for additional scenes. We're about halfway through now, but the fun is just beginning.
> 
> Here's Chapter 6!

Cisco was doing thing where he drummed two fingers on the table, so fast and so un-rhythmic that it infected Caitlin's own mental state. She put a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him.

Across the room, Wells held the phone to his ear. Caitlin didn't trust herself enough not to make any noise during the call, though she realized it was essential—in fact, Barry's life could depend on her being silent. She kept her hand unconsciously on Cisco's arm, fingers tightening around his sleeve.

Wells gave them a glance. Fleeting, but significant. He, too, knew the weight of what he was about to do.

"I need to speak to General Wade Eiling," he said firmly. "Immediately. Tell him it's Harrison Wells."

So he'd gotten through. There had been a part of Caitlin, disturbing, that had doubted they'd get through to the military at all. Even though Wells had claimed to be in possession of the General's number, all of it had seemed too good to be true. Excessively fortunate, given their current circumstances.

The silence that followed was too drawn-out, too piercing, to add to any of that relief. They waited with pounding hearts. Caitlin gripped Cisco's sleeve harder.

Finally, it ended.

Wells went deathly pale and level with derision.

"Wade—a pleasure, I'm sure." He ran a hand across his mouth. "I'll get right to the point. You know why I'm calling. We need The Flash back in our care."

A buzz of conversation emanated from the cellphone, and Wells' face hardened. Not a good sign.

"Give us back Barry Allen," he said, his voice freezing steel. "If you touch another hair on his head, I'll—"

He swallowed his words, apparently cut off. He took a breath. More buzzing on the other line. The scientist steadied himself, gave Caitlin, Cisco, Stein, and Ronnie one more look.

"Alright, Wade," he said. "You leave me no choice. I have a proposition for you. The Flash in exchange for Firestorm. Barry Allen for Professor Martin Stein. A fair trade, I'm sure, as the Professor is a valuable resource regarding metahuman research. I can personally deal with him, guarantee an easy trade-off." A pause. "Please, Wade."

Over the course of the proposition, his eyes had closed, as though he was too disgusted or nervous to continue looking at the others. Caitlin glanced at Stein, though the Professor didn't seem all that fazed; he nodded slowly in the corner, his glasses all the way down the bridge of his nose.

"There's no need for my associates to know," Wells said into the phone. "To them, it will look like a simple kidnapping. Which you're all to experienced with, at this point. I can have Professor Stein ready in an hour." He listened to more buzzing through the phone and clenched his teeth at a comment. Now sharp around the edges, he hung up the phone without a farewell.

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Cisco said.

"Almost certainly," Wells replied. "What kind of a leader would he be if he didn't? Fortunately he trusts in his own power over us, which he absolutely has."

"So you don't think he'll give Barry back?" Cisco asked nervously.

Wells shook his head. "No, I think that scenario is highly unlikely. He needs Barry too much, for his own scientific ends. We'll have to do this the hard way." He removed his glasses and polished them on the edge of his shirt. "I suggest you all prepare yourselves. We can't have you around when the…exchange takes place."

"Right." Cisco stood, and Caitlin's grip on his sleeve broke. Across the room, Stein gave her a final nod, like a death knell. He accepted the two objects that Cisco now offered. "GPS tracker is in the watch." Cisco accepted Stein's old watch and buckled on the new one. Even to Caitlin, the modified watch looked fairly normal. "This one you can attach anywhere. Inside of your collar…belt buckle…wherever you think you might be able to reach quickly."

"Thank you," said Stein, examining the tiny device. Although he looked more composed than the rest of them, with the exception being Wells, the nervousness in his voice crept forward. He cleared his throat. "Well, see you on the other side, I suppose."

Caitlin, Cisco, and Ronnie nodded and made their way down the stairs, down to the usually-abandoned rooms near the pipeline. Wells' and Stein's voices gradually receded, leaving them only with the hum of machines.

Cisco retreated to Barry's treadmill room, while Ronnie began pacing relentlessly down the long hallway and back. As for Caitlin, she didn't know what she wanted to do, or could do, in that moment. Part of her felt unable to sit still, but the other part wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep until this all was over.

Ronnie was too wound up for her right now, so she opted to go check on Cisco instead. She knocked lightly at the door of the room before entering. Cisco didn't even acknowledge. He was sitting on the edge of the treadmill, hunched over as he had been upstairs, as if he had a migraine or, more likely, was on the verge of puking. His long hair shielded most of his face, but Caitlin knew he was lost, staring a hole through the floor.

"Hey," she said. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Go ahead," he mumbled.

"I think Ronnie's going to wear a hole right through the floor with all that pacing," she said, sitting at the edge of the treadmill and tucking her legs to the side. It felt wrong, almost, for the two of them to be sitting there, with the symbol of Barry's power but not Barry himself.

Cisco cleared his throat.

"I stayed in the car," he said quietly. "I could've helped, but I stayed like a coward in that car."

Caitlin moved closer. "That's what's been bothering you?" she asked. "Cisco, none of this is your fault. Eiling had taken Barry before I could stop him."

"At least you Han Solo'd your way into the danger," Cisco said. "You at least made an effort to stop him. If we'd both been there, maybe we could have taken him down."

"Not a chance," Caitlin said bracingly, though she, too, wondered what would have happened if both of them had taken on Eiling at once. Might they have overwhelmed him? "He had a whole van behind him. Barry was already inside."

"Still, I shouldn't have stayed," Cisco insisted. "Gone down in a blaze of glory, you know. Now Barry's there, and they're doing God knows what to him, and—" He swallowed.

Caitlin's stomach turned as well. "Yes, Barry is there. But if we'd gone down, blaze of glory or not, we wouldn't be here to rescue him. Without us, he'd be there for good." Cisco still looked dejected, so Caitlin nudged him. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Please."

He finally lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. "I will—you know I will," he said. "Until we get him back. Once he's back with us, I'll consider relaxing."

"One thing at a time," Caitlin responded, smiling sadly.

Cisco motioned at her face. "Are you okay?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. Then her hand went up to her bruised chin, which was still tender. She'd almost forgotten about it. "This? It's nothing. It's fine."

Cisco's expression softened. "Maybe you should take your own advice and stop blaming yourself."

They lapsed into silence. Not long after, Ronnie ducked his head into the room. "It's time. He should be here any second."

Cisco pulled out his laptop and opened it. Already displayed were four screens, four feeds of security cameras throughout the building. One was the main entrance of the building, presumably where Eiling would be entering. The next, the street just outside. The bottom two were what they were most concerned with—one, the hallway that would lead any soldiers down to where the three of them were now hiding, and two, the main cortex where Wells and Stein now waited.

Movement on the top half of the screen made Caitlin's heart leap to her throat. A van, the same van that had taken Barry away, pulled up smoothly to the front of the lab. A moment later, two soldiers, dressed in black and carrying rifles emerged. Eiling followed shortly after, and Caitlin clenched her teeth.

Cisco swallowed. "It's go-time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get back to the action!
> 
> Thanks, as always, for your generous reviews and for continually coming back for new chapters! Please leave a review below and let me know what you thought (of this chapter and of the premiere, because I will gladly talk about both). Or, if you'd rather have more in-depth conversations about how much last night made you cry, you can hit me up on Tumblr at pennflinn.
> 
> Till next time!
> 
> Penn


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Sorry for the brief hiatus-I've been doing a few rewrites (plus I'm just crazy busy this month). Thanks for sticking it out; here's the resolution to that cliffhanger (though I can't promise there won't be more).
> 
> Enjoy!

"God, what I wouldn't do to take that son of a—" Ronnie began, watching Eiling on the computer screen. Caitlin steadied him, and he quieted.

"Anytime, Dr. Wells," Cisco said. He had not taken his eyes off of the screen for an instant.

Wells, who was eyeing a similar video feed on the arm of his wheelchair, nodded at Stein. On the second monitor now, Eiling and his men marched down the main hallway from the building entrance.

Cisco enlarged the feed showing the main cortex, grayscale and grainy as it was, and tapped up the volume. Wells' voice could just be heard over the static. He raised a glass of brandy, which he had just poured, to Stein.

"To a productive partnership."

They both drank; or, rather, Wells drank, and Stein feigned it. Caitlin didn't want to ask why Wells had a powerful sleeping agent in his possession, particularly in the form of something so innocuous as an ice cube and so readily at hand, but hopefully the physical presence of the chemical would be enough to quell any of Eiling's suspicions.

The General had to be close. Stein knew it, too. In the middle of speaking, he stumbled.

"Are you alright, Martin?" Wells asked, convincingly cold.

"Yes," Stein said. "Yes, I think—" He dropped his glass; it shattered over the floor, breaking into a hundred shining fragments. Stein dropped with it, landing hard on the floor.

"Really sold that, didn't he?" Cisco said, wincing.

"Yeah, he could get a job at the Royal Shakespeare Company," Ronnie said shortly. "Listen."

With Stein "unconscious" on the floor, Wells set his own drink back on the table and waited. Then, like a cartoon villain, Eiling and his two men stepped through the doorway and into the camera frame. Caitlin could practically feel the simmering rage seeping from Ronnie's skin.

"Doctor," Eiling said casually. "I knew you would make the right decision." He jerked a thumb and the two soldiers strode forward and picked up Stein under the armpits, heaving him upward. They began to drag him away, but Eiling stopped them with a hand.

"Just a moment, gentlemen," he said. Languidly, he moved to the main desk, reached forward.

"The watch," Cisco said hollowly.

Caitlin wasn't sure what he was talking about, but when Eiling held up the object he'd spotted, cold understanding rushed through her.

"Two watches, hm?" Eiling continued, tossing Stein's watch back on the table. "If he didn't need this one, surely he won't need the other. Time doesn't matter where he's going."

One of the soldiers removed the modified watch from Stein's wrist and let it clatter to the floor. Beside Caitlin, Cisco had begun a mantra of "no, no, no, no," but she could do nothing, not even speak. What was there to do? Only sit there, silent, watching the last of their hope slip through the cracks of their fingers.

As the soldiers dragged Stein unceremoniously away, Eiling looked back at Wells. "What was it, a tracker? Trying to trick me, Harrison?" He stepped on the watch, crunching it. "Not a great way to execute a business deal."

"Forgetting something?" Wells said, remaining astoundingly composed physically but obviously seething. When Eiling didn't answer, he pressed on. "Where. Is. Barry. Allen."

"He's a little preoccupied," Eiling said. "You ever wonder what a rat thinks about when it's holed up in a cage?"

Wells wheeled forward forcefully. "We had a deal, Wade. A man for a man."

"But, see, I have more use of the physical man than you. You—" Eiling pointed a finger at Wells, like a parent admonishing a child. "—you were always about wasted potential, weren't you? See what you can do with this; I think this will be sufficient for whatever future investigations you had in mind. You always were particular about the ethics of it all." He tossed something small in Wells' direction, and the scientist caught it deftly. He registered what it was, went rigid.

"Don't worry," Eiling said in parting. "I think we can get him to survive a few more weeks. Maybe months, if he really wants it."

He strode toward the door. Wells, now livid—whether acted or not—jerked his chair forward to block the entrance. Without breaking stride, Eiling shoved at the side of the chair, sending Wells spilling over. Glass crashed, Wells grunted. Eiling, uninterested, exited the frame.

The three were up and running as soon as the main doors of the lab closed. Their footsteps echoed down the long hallways, surely giving them away if there were any soldiers still around. When they burst into the cortex, Wells still lay on the ground, struggling to extricate himself from his toppled chair.

"Dr. Wells, are you okay?" Cisco asked, as Ronnie jogged forward to help the scientist up.

Wells looked decidedly uncomfortable; he adjusted his glasses and thanked Ronnie in a low voice. "I assure you, Cisco, only my pride is wounded."

But Caitlin's heart stopped. "You're bleeding."

On the ground, a sizeable puddle of blood had formed, stark red against the white floor. Within the puddle were shards of glass, and Caitlin rushed forward immediately to check Wells' points of impact. However, he held up his hand to stop her.

"It's not my blood."

Realization hit Cisco first. "Oh, God…"

Then Caitlin—figuratively—put the pieces together. Those pieces of glass: they were fragments of a test tube, the very same that Eiling had handed Wells, the one that had frozen Wells' expression.

"It's Barry's," Caitlin said. Wells nodded.

Ronnie kicked the table, and Caitlin closed her eyes. "Eiling figured it out. We have no leads, no way to track Stein. Now  _two_  of our men are trapped God knows where, and we are no closer to saving them. How could you have  _done_ this?"

He wheeled on Wells. Caitlin stepped in. "This isn't his fault," she said. Heat bubbled up the back of her throat, but she forced it back. Now was not the time to have a panic attack.

"Martin knew the risks," Wells said.

"That doesn't—"

"It does matter," continued Wells. "It matters a great deal. It also gives us the responsibility to do whatever is necessary to recover him."

"He still has the other device on him," Cisco offered.

"That doesn't matter if we can't  _get_ to him." Ronnie stormed to the other end of the room, out into the hallway. Wells put up a hand to stop Caitlin from going after him.

"I'll talk to him," he said, sounding wearier than he had in a long while. "You two start thinking of new strategies. You heard Eiling. The faster we find Barry and Martin, the better."

He pushed himself forward, out to the hallway, out into whatever hell Ronnie had constructed for himself.

Dizzy, Caitlin collapsed into a chair. The smear of red on the floor wove its way through her consciousness, consumed her from the inside out. She was losing feeling in her fingers.

"What can we do?" she asked. "Where do we start?"

Cisco was quiet a few seconds. "I don't know," he said finally. His voice broke as he repeated it. "I don't know."

* * *

_He blinked frost from his eyelashes. If he tried to curl his fingers, each knuckle cracked and popped._

_The door burst open. Eiling. Red spots blossomed on his cheekbones, and a vein pulsed in his temple._

_"_ _Cozy in here?" he asked tersely. Halfway into the room, he was followed by two men dressed in black. They flung a third figure, a disturbingly familiar figure, onto the ground in the middle of the room._

 _"_ _Barry, I'm sorry." Stein's glasses had been knocked off, and one eye was swollen shut. His hands, bound in front of him, shook on the cold floor._

 _"_ _A noble breakout attempt, I'm sure," Eiling said. "You want to know what the big plan was?" He brandished a watch—Stein's defeated look confirmed that it was his. "High-powered GPS attachment, much like the one we disabled on your suit. And what's more?" He pointed at a small black circle on the underside of the watch. "A sonic device. Produces a frequency strong enough to incapacitate anyone in a hundred foot radius."_

 _"_ _I'm sorry—" Stein pleaded again, his eyes like magnets on Barry._

 _"_ _A shame it failed, a shame that you're leading your friends here," Eiling said. "And a shame that you, Stein, thought yourself important enough or clever enough to sacrifice yourself for Barry's safety." He nodded at one of the soldiers. The man pulled out a gun, aimed it at Stein's head. "I think you misjudged."_

_Barry couldn't look away._

Bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as always, I always appreciate a review!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting real up in here. Thanks for being patient with me for these updates-maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.
> 
> Here's Chapter 8!

When the world melted back for the second time, Barry tasted copper. He'd bitten his tongue that time, and the blood dribbled down his chin. Or maybe it was blood from the cough, which ripped at the back of his dry throat.

At this point, it was hard to tell where the pain began and where it ended, or where, specifically, his weakness was coming from. The "scientists" had become quite fond of the cattle prod, and to distract himself, he tried to catalog his own injuries. He wanted to identify what was wrong, so he would know when it came time to escape. So he'd know what to tell Caitlin.

The thing was, he couldn't. He couldn't figure out if it was the metal spikes, or the bruises on his face, or the cold. The long bursts of electricity, the blood loss from constant blood draws, or simply the lack of food and water with a fast metabolism.

Most likely, it was all of those things beating him down to unresponsiveness, unfeelingness. Everything, even thinking, was too hard.

How much longer until his friends came? He spent the minutes, or hours, between shocks staring at the door. The true terror had finally begun to sink in: that they would never find him, that he would be stuck here with a man who saw him not as a person but as a product.

Who knew how long that would last?

He had only just managed to spit away the pool of blood in his mouth when he was sucked back into the white-hot world of electricity. Impossible to tell how long. Just infinite whiteness, and a resurfacing world. More blood pumped out of his arm into a waiting vial. More blood dripped down his chin—this time from his raw, chapped lip, which had finally split down the middle.

"That do anything for you?" he slurred, but he couldn't quite manage to bring his head up enough to look at the scientist monitoring the blood draw. "My blood changing? Cause if it did…my powers…I could kick your butt so hard…"

One of the puncture points in his neck throbbed. The scientists said nothing.

He was bracing himself for another shock when angry shouts bounced into the room from the hallway.

"I won't give you anything, you hear? This is a sick operation—sick, I tell you…"

Barry knew that voice. He forced his head up, toward the door, unsure what he was hoping for.

A moment later, two soldiers marched past the doorway, dragging a furious Professor Stein along with them.

"Professor…" Barry croaked.

There was no way in hell Stein heard him, but the chill seeping from the room must have caught the Professor's attention. He looked to the side as he passed, his eyes growing wide when he saw what was in the room.

He cried Barry's name and struggled to stay in the doorway, but the soldiers kept marching him forward. "Hang on, Barry! Hang on—"

In seconds he was gone and silenced, and in his place stood Barry's current least favorite person.

"Cozy in here?" Eiling said. The smugness on his face was infectious.

"It's great," Barry said. "Really everything I've wanted. The host is crap, though. You look kind of like a potato on a stick, did you know that?"

To be honest, he probably deserved one hit, but maybe not both. The rod, which Eiling grabbed off the table, audibly cracked across his nose and his ribs.

Eiling examined Barry's wheezing and the blood that now ran freely from his nose. "You talk like someone who has nothing to lose," the General said. "I assure you, that's far from true. Your friend Harrison Wells sold out Martin Stein for you. Who knows how many more of your friends will suffer for your sake?"

He tossed the rod back on the table and it rolled off, clattering on the floor at Barry's feet. Eiling's breath turned translucent white in the air. He motioned at his scientists.

"Leave him," he said. "Run your tests on the new blood. I think he has enough to think about for the time being. Maybe our  _new_ guest will be more forthcoming."

This time, Barry heard definitively the sound of the door to his room locking. He was alone again; though, as blood spattered steadily on the floor, he couldn't decide if that was a good thing.

* * *

_He was alone, finally, and his skin tingled with electricity or cold or both. He wavered for a moment, vision unreliable. The logical, primal part of his brain told him to give in. Slip into unconsciousness. Gain some relief while he had the chance._

_The part of his brain that made him the Flash had other things to say._

_Once he had regained some semblance of control over his awareness, he focused in on his muscles. They were stiff, which, again, could be attributed to any of the punishments dealt to him over the last few hours. The most likely culprit was the electricity, but that was exactly what he counted on._

_He was sure, deep down, that the new blood the scientists had drawn would look different. He could feel the change, feel the lightning cutting through the inhibitions of the freezing room. Most importantly, he believed in all of that. Wasn't that what Caitlin had always told him was important? Belief?_

_So he dug deep, closed his eyes, felt those traces of lightning that had been used against him. He reached into the core of himself, past the ache and the ice, and he vibrated._

_It started out slow, barely a tremble in his arms, then grew. The noise of it grew: a deepening buzz and a rattle of metal, a symphony of triumph and release. His restraints clattered, resisted._

_Then the vibrations peaked, and the cuffs snapped open._

_There was a pause, like an intake of breath, and then he fell forward. On instinct he twisted, landing on the one arm that wasn't entirely riddled with metal. The impact still hurt, but within a few deep breaths he had snapped back._

_The floor was so cold it stuck to the exposed skin of his arm. He peeled it away and began a one-armed crawl toward the door. Each pull was agonizingly slow, but he kept his eyes fixed on the door handle and ignored the stabs each time one of the spikes in his chest grazed the floor. Adrenaline was the best painkiller, Caitlin had always said._

_At last he reached the door. Pressing his ear against the cold metal, he listened for activity on the other side, but all was quiet._

_If he could just get the door open, he could make a break for it. He was sure. He believed._

_He reached upward, muscles straining and screaming, made contact with the door handle._

_There wasn't much left in him to do any significant pulling, so instead he used his dead weight to drag the handle down._

_Nothing._

_He tried again. The handle didn't budge. Locked, probably, from the outside._

_Barry slid down the door and pressed his back against it, truly shivering for the first time in hours. Locked in._

_Maybe would rest for another few minutes, come up with a different plan—_

_And then voices outside, too many footsteps. Gruff speech, vague sounds of struggle._

_"_ _These three were breaking in. I assume they're linked to our most recent project?"_

_"_ _Indeed." Eiling. "How convenient. What a daring little rescue attempt—and here you are, handing me the other piece of Firestorm, in the process. I'm surprised he's still in one piece after the unfortunate demise of his other half. I'd thank you, but I'm not sure that was your intention."_

_"_ _Let us go, you freak."_

_Dread compounded in Barry's chest. It was Cisco._

_"_ _I applaud you for making it into the facility," Eiling continued, "but this is the end of the road. Lieutenant, please secure Mr. Raymond in room D207. Mr. Ramone and Ms. Snow you can dispose of. We have no need of them. And please, track down Harrison Wells and bring him in as well. Better to go forward with a clean slate."_

_"_ _Yes sir."_

_Caitlin's scream pierced the unyielding door. Barry sprang into action again, tugging down sharply at handle again and again, but it wouldn't yield. Gasping, Barry fell back onto the floor. By the time he'd caught his breath, the activity on the other side of the door had ceased—Caitlin, Cisco, and Ronnie had been dragged away._

_Barry's lungs were crystallizing. He lay curled on the floor, one hand grasping his middle, and tried to feel anything but numb._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, getting real! Thanks for reading. Reviews make my day, and God knows I need that this week as my life/schedule blows up in my face. I love you all-see you in a few days.
> 
> Cheers
> 
> Penn


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Flash day, which means new chapter day! Thanks for waiting. This chapter is almost entirely new material (and longer!), based on some questions raised in your feedback and my own personal desire to give Barry some agency in the story. Thanks also for jumping on board the whump train-this chapter definitely has it-even though it makes me totally squeamish writing it!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy Chapter 9!

He was alone, finally, and his skin tingled with electricity or cold or both.

The electric shocks had given Barry more than just a headache and muscle pain—it had given him just a flicker of something useful. He could feel it in his chest, igniting from the vision of Stein in the hallway, a spark of panic and desperation. Just enough to latch on to. Maybe he was just stubborn enough to use it to his advantage.

He sought it out in his chest, focused all of his energy on it. Closed his eyes, blocked everything else out—the cold, the pain, the fear. Then he vibrated.

It started out as little more than a shiver, then grew in intensity, focused in his arms and legs. He picked up speed, his body screaming with the effort—

Then,  _click, click, click_. The cuffs that held him immobile popped open. He stopped vibrating at once, just cognizant enough to recognize that he was falling and that he needed to angle himself to prevent complete impalement. At the last minute he did, landing on his least injured side with a thud. The IV tore out of his arm and the cart it was attached to crashed to the floor behind him.

He allowed himself ten seconds to recover. Ten seconds of throbbing, ringing peace. Once he had steadied his breathing enough to think clearly, he rolled to his back and blinked up at the bare ceiling.

First things first. There was clearly something wrong with his suit, given that there had been literal radio silence since he'd been taken. Meaning, no communication, no GPS, no monitoring. No matter how it had happened, Barry knew it was essential now that Stein was captured. His friends were out of options, and, in that moment, he knew that he had to try anything.

The theory of generating electricity through his own kinetic force had been bouncing around in his mind for some time now, but there had never been a time to truly test it out. Now, with limited time and an even more limited reservoir of strength, he knew the time of testing was over. The electricity from the cattle prod was not enough to stimulate the damaged suit. Perhaps if he vibrated at the right frequency, the right speed…

There were three metal pieces jammed into the logo, the source of the GPS tracking. Part of the problem, at least, must have been with those. At least, that's what Barry hoped—this would be an unpleasantly unnecessary exercise otherwise.

No time to think about it. He could hardly feel his fingers, but he groped around on his chest and closed his fist around one of the shards.

Should he be cautious? Or was it like a band-aid? There was no guidebook for metal spike self-removal.

Might as well do it like he'd learned to do everything: fast.

He tried to clench his teeth as he pulled, but that didn't stop the shout as the spike came free.  _No time to think_. He shakily dropped the metal to the floor and reached for the next one.

Two agonizing fragments later, he paused to gulp for air. His chest was on fire, inside and out; he passed a trembling hand over damp cheeks and focused on the ceiling. He could fall asleep like this, sprawled on the floor, coldness and blackness promising to eat away at what tormented him. It would be easy to shut his eyes against the spinning flecks in the gray ceiling and simply wait.

Instead, he puffed out a breath and put one hand to his bloodied chest, pressing his fingers to the lightning bolt that made him who he was. He winced at the touch.

 _Breathe past it_ , he thought, swallowing bile.  _Come on, Barry_.

With his fingers pressed into the source of his power, he drew on the reserves of energy created by desperation and began the vibration. Within seconds, his chest buzzed with the force of it, and blue sparks shot out from the bloodstained circle.

He continued this for a few seconds, sparking and fizzing, before he was forced to stop and recharge. The cold's effect was creeping into him again, the temporary resolve fading. Still, by sheer force of will, he tried again, managing a few more seconds of concentrated vibrations, the sparkle of blue that bounced across his chest, ripples in a wave.

Then, the high-pitched whistle of the door opening.

There was almost no lag between Eiling entering the room and Eiling stalking forward. Barry tried, halfheartedly, to push himself away, but where would he go? The General was standing above him in an instant, his boot rising, crashing down on Barry's un-gloved hand.

Perhaps the pain would have been worse had his hand not been partially numb, but the sound of cracking alone was enough to draw out a cry of agony. The boot remained there, crushing his wrist and fingers to the floor for an eternity, but when it lifted Barry curled over in an attempt to protect his hand.

"Trying to re-power your suit?" Eiling asked, and it was only by the tone of his voice that Barry realized how close to succeeding he must have been. "Think we don't have ways to detect that kind of thing?" His next step came down close to Barry's face, and Barry flinched away. "Trying to contact your friends? Tough luck, Mr. Allen."

Barry was so focused on his hand that he didn't see the cattle prod until it was too late. It hit his chest, the same spot he had been trying so desperately to recharge, and he went rigid, blind.

Nothing was real, he thought. He was dead. He had to be dead.

There was no definite end to the shock, just a gradual decline, the sensation of reverse drowning. His chest emblem was smoking, overloaded, completely useless. He was being dragged upward, a deadweight—metal again circling around his ankles, arms, wrists. He couldn't tell if he was crying or sweating—though, as he watched Eiling turn down the temperature even more, he was forced to assume the former.

"Please," he said, and his voice felt far away, unfamiliar. "Please, stop. I don't know what you want from me."

Another click down on the thermostat, for good measure.

"Begging doesn't become a hero," Eiling said. "Perhaps you should reconsider your line of work." Barry couldn't lift his head enough to look at him, but he could hear the sneer. "Maybe, enough time with us, you will."

* * *

"Coffee?" Caitlin asked. There was no coffee—they'd run out of grounds days ago and Barry kept forgetting to pick more up—but it seemed like an appropriate gesture. She was running on autopilot anyway, much too detached from the real world to care about trivial things like the existence of actual coffee grounds.

Thankfully, Cisco declined. Though it had only been an hour since Stein had been taken, they felt every minute as if it were an eternity. Caitlin's mind was an unbearable place to be, and she was sure Cisco's was the same. In that hour they'd found nothing, seen nothing, heard nothing. She'd never felt so useless.

"Take a rest," Wells said, perhaps in an effort to be comforting. Since approaching Ronnie, he'd been wheeling in and out of the cortex, offering suggestions and retreating into other rooms to do his own thinking. "It's late. You're no use to anyone if you're dead on your feet."

"No," Caitlin insisted. "No, we have to keep looking." What time was it? Two in the morning? Three? She'd lost track. It wasn't important.

"Maybe we should just start driving," Cisco said hesitantly. He rubbed his temples. "You know, comb the streets. See if we find anything suspicious."

"We have no idea how far they drove," Wells reasoned. "We have no idea what our radius is. I'm afraid that might only delay us from making any real headway."

"Well, what do you suggest?" Cisco said, pushing away his keyboard forcefully. "I've searched everything. Security footage is down. Everything is down. There's nowhere else to look. There's nothing else to do. We're. Losing. Time."

With a huff, he buried his fingers in his hair. Caitlin, too exhausted to comfort him, looked blankly at Wells, as if he could offer the solutions they needed.

Judging by his vacant returning stare, he couldn't.

"Can Ronnie do anything?" Caitlin offered. "Their physical link…"

Wells shook his head before she had finished. "I've asked. He doesn't feel anything. Either Martin is unconscious—which wouldn't be surprising, given Eiling's tendencies—or he's simply too far away for Ronnie to make contact."

"Then—"

Caitlin's thought was cut off by a brightening of the computer monitors.

"What was that?"

Cisco perked up, searching the monitors. "I'm not sure," he said. "Some kind of external activity."

No one dared to say anything. Cisco reached again for his keyboard, typing a few commands, watching. His face was unreadable.

"Either I'm going crazy, or that was…"

The screens brightened again, and the familiar silhouette of Barry's suit popped up onscreen, rotating gently in the corner. All of the usual measurements, the vital signs and the damage reports, were absent, but something beeped in the left-hand corner of the screen.

"Is that—"

"His GPS is back online," Cisco said, his fingers a flurry. It was amazing how quickly he reverted back to his usual self, how speedily he recovered. His forehead shone and his eyes lit up with the glow of the monitors. The look sent Caitlin's heart into her throat. "We can track him. Here."

As quickly as the new image had appeared, a map was onscreen, with a familiar red triangle superimposed on the image of a building.

"An off-the-books research facility, I assume," Wells said, pushing up his glasses and moving closer. At that moment, Ronnie appeared in the doorway.

"Did you find something?" he asked.

Caitlin motioned him closer, too nervous to speak, lest the spell be broken.

"Facility 27, about 300 miles away," Cisco said. "That's where the signal is coming from."

"Something must have triggered Barry's GPS," Caitlin said.

"Briefly," Cisco corrected. The beeping, which had been continuous for the past minute, suddenly cut off. "It's gone."

"Still," Ronnie said. "We know where Barry is, at least. Right?"

"It could be a trap," Wells cautioned.

"Maybe," Cisco said. "But this is something. We can't ignore it."

"No," Caitlin said. "We have to go. Now."

"Hold on," Ronnie said. "Wells is right. This could be intentional. Eiling could be leading us straight into his hands."

"With all due respect," Caitlin said. "I don't care." She looked to Cisco. He was already standing. "If this is the last shot we have, I'd rather spend it than lose it. They need us." She swallowed, felt purpose surging back through her. "Let's get our boys back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a review-if you loved it or hated it-and check back soon for the next chapter. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! Here we go, into the action.
> 
> So, the internet in my house went out today, so I am struggling-but I'm hoping the situation will be resolved soon so I can update normally. I feel like a broken record, but bear with me (also in terms of the trademarked Questionable Science, which shows up in full force in this chapter!).
> 
> This one's dedicated to Hedgi, probably the greatest supporter I've ever had-I know you're in a tough place right now.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

"If you're going to vomit, do it out the window. This is a company car."

Caitlin gave Cisco a feebly derisive look and strapped herself in. Even his jokes felt a bit too hollow. Considering the circumstances, it was amazing he could still attempt one.

Besides, he was right. Just being back in that van made Caitlin's stomach turn in knots. Cisco revved the engine and her heart skipped. She idly kicked at the thin carpet to distract herself as Ronnie jumped into the passenger seat.

"Ready."

The van jerked forward. Wells, hooked through the modified earpieces they all wore, spoke. "Good luck to all of you. Keep me updated."

"Likewise," Ronnie said.

The communication clicked away, and Caitlin switched to chewing on her nails. In the front, Cisco's knuckles had turned white, and Ronnie pried open the box on his lap. The long silver device inside glinted under passing streetlights.

"This feels wrong," Caitlin said. "All of it—using enemy technology for our own purposes? Doesn't it feel…"

"What, unfair? Manipulative? Morally wrong?" Cisco added unhelpfully.

"Necessary," Ronnie corrected. "What else are we supposed to do? It's either using what we have or letting Stein and Barry die."

Caitlin hmmed. He was right, she knew. But she chewed her nail down to the quick all the same.

The night, if possible, grew darker. Ragged edges of the city limits disappeared behind them, giving way to straight highway and suffocating emptiness on either side.

Ronnie's leg jiggled.

"I've got the floorplan," Wells said through the comm. "Best to begin bracing yourselves. There's no way of knowing how many people Eiling has under his control."

"Enough," Ronnie said, and he gripped the silver device more tightly.

* * *

_Barry skidded to a halt in a sea of broken glass, and the sparks shot like thousands of comets across the reflections. Someone had cut the main power of the café, and the "s" of "Jitters" had fallen to the ground on the far wall._

_He found Caitlin quickly. She had picked herself off of the floor at the sound of his entrance and now lifted herself up gingerly by the edge of a table. She had glass in her hair._

_"_ _You're too late," she said. "They took him."_

* * *

Once, when Barry was little, he'd asked Joe about polar bears. He'd seen a show on Discovery Channel about arctic creatures and he was convinced he wanted to be a polar bear.

"They get to play in the snow all the time and they get to sleep right out in the cold."

Joe had laughed, his eyes crinkling into little slits like they always did.

"I don't think you would make a very good polar bear," he'd said.

No, Barry reckoned now. He had been right. He wouldn't make a very good polar bear.

Had anyone contacted Joe?

* * *

"We may have a problem," Wells said.

"Why am I not surprised you said that?" Cisco said, slowing the van marginally.

"Professor Stein has not activated his sonic device," Wells continued. "It is possible he is not able to, in which case it is imperative that you find him first." He paused, and Caitlin could practically hear the gears spinning in his head and the keys clicking on the keyboard in front of him.

"I think I can still access it remotely," he continued. "I can link its frequency to the main PA system. Knock down anyone within range of the speakers."

"Including Stein," Cisco said. "I know how much these frequencies hurt—he's not going to be much help to us until we can get hearing protection to him."

"Not to mention," Caitlin said, furrowing her brow, "that kind of prolonged exposure can cause permanent damage."

"How long do we have before that happens?" Ronnie asked.

Caitlin chewed her lip, weighing the factors of their plan. "Fifteen minutes, safely," she said. "No more than twenty."

"Right," said Cisco. "So from the moment Wells activates that device, we have twenty minutes to get in, find Stein and Barry, and get out." He uttered something that might have been a laugh but actually sounded more like a choke. "Easy enough."

"You and Caitlin are the two who single-handedly escaped from Deathstroke a year ago," Wells said. "I believe in you."

Caitlin had heard those words often enough in relation to Barry, but now she had to admire the effect Wells could have with a simple declaration of faith. No wonder he had always managed to push Barry harder, make him run faster, inspire him to achieve miracles.

Ronnie passed a hand over his face. "We're close," he said.

"How do you know?" Caitlin asked.

Disorientation flooded Ronnie's eyes, but he looked back at her and she could sense the change in his posture, the dawning realization.

"I can feel it," he said. "I also feel cold."

"Well, the heat doesn't work in this van," Cisco said, "but your creepy Ringwraith premonition is true." He nodded forward.

Just in the distance, an old, gray stone building rose up into existence. A few lights, white and harsh even from that distance, dotted the exterior and guided them like a landing strip.

"Classic horror movie location," Cisco muttered.

"On my count," Wells said. Perhaps it was Ronnie's premonition, but the entire van seemed to ice over.

Barry was able to perform miracles under Wells' guidance—Caitlin only hoped they could do the same.

* * *

Though Barry wasn't sure where his consciousness began and where it ended, he was confident he knew when the havoc started.

He was drifting, sucking in razor-sharp gasps of air, trying to curl his fingers around whatever reality he was now living in. By that point, most of his body was blissfully numb, save for the deep, resonant throb that bubbled up every few minutes and the unbearable weight of frost on his eyelashes. He could only think in terms of the gray walls and the gray door he faced—one minute they were framed in his imagination by the silhouette of Cisco, the next of Caitlin, then Dr. Wells and Joe. The next, Eiling.

And, worst of all, nothing.

An action as simple as a cough was not allowed; his daydreams were interrupted by a tightening in his lungs and a feeble puff of crystalline air that evaporated at a disturbingly fast pace.

Then, chaos.

The sound, audible and inaudible at once, barely penetrated the heavy door of his now-cell, but he recognized it immediately. It tossed him back to that night on the overpass, the wet pavement and the ripples that passed effortlessly through his body. Blood on his lips, like now. Organs, shredding themselves apart, as he writhed on the ground and clutched his ears.

The same ringing, piercing noise now echoed behind steel and concrete, not quite loud enough to set him into agony, but just enough that he recognized the shrieks of soldiers in the hallway.

He closed his eyes. The chaos was deafening, the hope sickening, but he couldn't muster the strength to root for either one.

* * *

Thank God one of them had the sensibility to wear a watch that day. Cisco, brandishing an iPad in one hand, motioned forward with the other. The building schematics blazed bright blue on the screen, although at this point they were unnecessary: Ronnie was drawn perpetually forward by the magnetism of his connection with Stein, his face drenched with sweat from some pain neither Cisco nor Caitlin could feel.

There was no way to speak to one other, not even to shout warnings or give guidance. Caitlin had obviously never been in a war zone before, but this felt something like it. As they sprinted through gray-washed hallways and flashing red lights, she was thrillingly deaf. The specialized hearing protectors that they all wore effectively neutralized the world around her. She knew, in theory what was happening—the sonic frequency was being blasted through every loudspeaker in the facility, incapacitating everyone in their path—but she still felt as if she was dreaming as she passed dozens of writhing men and women on the ground, all clutching their ears.

All of it seemed too easy, and yet she couldn't bring herself to fault their fortune. She passed blindly past the silently wailing people on the ground and forced herself not to think.

Cisco motioned again, but Ronnie had already taken the turn down a slightly darker hallway. It wasn't true that Caitlin couldn't hear anything—she could hear her heartbeat, thick and monstrous in her ears.

They passed into a small passageway, and instantly the temperature dropped. Maybe Ronnie's premonition had been right; it was likely, given that he now led the way to Stein without any need of a map or GPS coordinates. A woman against one of the walls dug the heels of her hands into her ears, face distorted. Caitlin averted her eyes and kicked away the gun that had fallen to the ground.

Finally they reached a steel door, partially ajar, which Ronnie disappeared into without pausing. Cisco and Caitlin rushed to follow him, Cisco lowering his iPad when he registered where they were.

In the center of the room sat Professor Stein, cuffed by the wrists and ankles to a metal chair, his teeth clenched in a grimace. Though there weren't any speakers in the room that Caitlin could see, the open door allowed for plenty of the sound waves. Besides, he had the origin of it all on his person: the small sonic chip Cisco had given him back in the lab.

Ronnie appeared to be frozen on the spot, so Cisco rushed forward to undo the cuffs. Once freed, Stein reached into his pocket and pulled out his own hearing protection, similar modified earpieces like the rest of the team wore. He relaxed slightly and wiped away the sweat from his forehead, then nodded to indicate he was ready. He looked out of place, Caitlin thought, with fringes of panic in the creases of his face, his clean button-down, his skewed glasses. He didn't belong here, in this dark military base. Then again, none of them did.

The proximity between Stein and Ronnie frightened her, so she stepped between them to get Stein's attention.

"Where's Barry?" she mouthed.

Stein pointed to the door and led them out. They jogged down the hallway, Stein clearly exhausted but doggedly pushing ahead. Caitlin checked her watch. Five minutes left.

They hadn't gone very far before Stein came to a halt. It was the steel door they had passed before, the one that seemed to radiate cold. Stein nodded at it and stepped out of the way as Ronnie hefted the silver device and aimed at the handle.

All doubts about the moralism of their weapons departed in that moment; the makeshift gun, which Cisco had modeled after Pied Piper's sonic gloves, was remarkably efficient. The concentrated waves rippled forward and, within seconds, the lock of the door burst. Ronnie passed the gun to Cisco and rammed his shoulder against the metal. It swung open, and the rush of freezing air that emptied into the hallway pricked up the hairs on the back of Caitlin's neck. Even that chilled her less than the sight that met them.

In the middle of the tiny gray room, a familiar maroon suit appeared faded, riddled with metal, the face above it tinged white and purple.

Caitlin wanted to cry, or throw up, or scream, but mostly she wanted to run to Barry—run to him and never let him go again.. However, while everyone else dashed toward the barely-stirring figure held tightly to the vertical backboard, she could not.

A door crashed closed behind her, a gloved hand caught her around the throat, and the cold barrel of a gun pressed into her temple.

Without looking back, she knew who it was—and without looking back, she knew that Eiling was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. Hopefully the internet is back up soon-in the meantime, let's bond in the face of my new favorite line in Flash history: "Hello, kids."
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I officially have no internet at my place until at least Monday, which is great (awful), but I'm trying to hop to the library/coffee shops intermittently to get work done, so updates will hopefully still be happening!
> 
> It's been brought to my attention that I kill off Cisco a lot. Sorry about that...it won't happen again.
> 
> (I've also been known to lie.)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

_Without thinking, Caitlin flung open the van door and bolted, ignoring Cisco's yell of warning behind her. She sprinted, past Ronnie, past the soldiers that were converging upon him. She heard another van door slam, and she didn't have to look back to know that Cisco was hot on her heels, also making the mad dash down the alley._

_A shot rang off, and Caitlin's heel caught on the pavement. She connected with the asphalt, a burning streak across her arm and chin. The ground was pebble-gray, so dizzyingly gray it made her eyes hurt—and for the moment that she struggled to recover, it was the only detail she could focus on._

_Where was Cisco?_

_She pulled herself to her feet and looked wildly around. Cisco was a few feet away, also lying on the ground, but he hadn't stirred. She wondered where the shot had come from, where it had gone, if the answer was anything she could handle—_

_When she turned back to Eiling, one of her questions was answered, whether she liked it or not._

_Still, she ran, down the smoking barrel of his gun, knowing even as his fingers tightened around the trigger that she was not fast enough._

_She would never be fast enough._

I'm so sorry, Barry.

* * *

The heavy door effectively blocked out any of the piercing ringing outside, and sound flooded back through Caitlin's earpieces. The ringing she now heard, she realized, was from her own paralyzing fear.

"It was a good performance," Eiling said. His breath was warm on the back of her neck. "Really impressive. But don't think you're the only ones with fancy earplugs."

"If you hurt her, I swear to God—" Ronnie began.

Eiling's bark of laughter made Caitlin jump. "Don't pretend like you have leverage here. You've been playing a game that you never learned the rules to."

"Please." The voice, hoarse and barely more than a whisper, came from behind Stein, Ronnie, and Cisco. They parted to reveal Barry, who had lifted his ashen, bruised face to look at Eiling. "Please let her go. I'll do anything, I swear."

This time, Eiling's hollow laugh was deeper, full of derision. "I have everything I need from you. It's been fun,  _Flash_ , but I'm afraid now I have no use—no patience—for any of you."

Caitlin wasn't sure what drew her to Ronnie, why she looked at him then, but in an instant she had all of the information she needed. She knew, instinctively, what Ronnie was about to do.

The sadness, the apprehension, reached her loud and clear:  _If I do this, I may not be coming back._

In response, she tried to convey as best she could,  _I know_.

Then, Ronnie reached forward and grabbed Stein's arm.

Caitlin had never, like Cisco, long entertained theories of time.  _Time is not linear_ , Cisco had always told her.  _It's made up of layers. Sometimes you can see through them, or across them…moments don't happen in any kind of order, but as plots on multiple planes of existence…_

Now, as time appeared to blur together, she believed it—her moments converged, aligned, and exploded at once.

A swirl of orange and yellow light, almost like flame but not yet that substantial, surrounded Ronnie and Stein; even as they made contact, they were less like individuals. It was blindingly colorful for the space they were in, and Caitlin's head spun with an unexplainable thrill of disquietude and danger. Eiling must have felt it too: his focus shifted, his grip relaxed, and his gun arm turned outward to aim at the rapidly-converging figures.

There was no time for thinking. The answer seemed obvious.

With one hand, she knocked sideways the arm holding the gun, and it fired with a bang. The other hand she balled up into a fist and, using her momentum, she swung her elbow around to make contact with Eiling's face. His head snapped to the side and he dropped.

There was a rush of wind behind Caitlin, a moment's pause.

And it was over.

"Well, that was badass," Cisco said.

She peeled her eyes away from the unconscious Eiling and turned to find a now-active Firestorm standing in place of Ronnie and Stein, with Cisco standing awestruck beside him.

"I think he hit his head," she said, motioning at the General on the floor. Her voice sounded distant. She knew once the adrenaline wore off, she would probably lose control of her stomach.

"He'll be fine," Cisco said. "More than he deserves, probably."

Behind Cisco, Barry's head sagged, and the action of the past minute dissolved from Caitlin's mind. She rushed forward without another word and put a hand on his forehead. It was freezing.

"Hey," she said. "Hey, Barry, look at me." She looked over at Cisco. "Get him out of this."

Cisco sprang into action as well, dropping his weapon and iPad on a nearby table and moving behind the backboard.

Caitlin's fingers were numb as she traced Barry's face, ghosting over the deep purple bruise under his left eye and the dried blood down his chin and neck. His eyes, rusted around the edges with exhaustion, lifted and searched her expression.

"You've got a bruise on your chin," he slurred.

If he didn't have three-inch spikes in his skin, she might have slapped his arm. "Damn you, Barry Allen."

He tried a laugh, but it dissolved as soon as it began, his head dropping.

He was broken, she knew—and she was breaking.

"Do you have him?"

Wells' voice had not broadcasted in so long, it came as a surprise to Caitlin. After the extended period of ringing in the hallways beyond, it crackled with static.

He was in the middle of repeating himself when Caitlin cut him off. "We've got him. We're coming home."

Cisco finally managed to find the release. The cuffs around Barry's arms, wrists, and ankles popped open, and he slumped. Caitlin caught him before he fell, gingerly, under the arms where there were fewer spikes. Cisco rushed back around to help, taking the brunt of Barry's weight. There was no way the speedster could fully move on his own—a fact Caitlin had anticipated but never fully acknowledged. He whimpered at the slight movement, and she exchanged a panicked glance with Cisco.

Trying to maintain some semblance of confidence. Cisco placed a hand bracingly on Barry's back. "Hey, man. You're gonna be okay."

"That's…not necessarily true," Caitlin said. She had just glanced at her watch and now a more immediate panic fluttered up inside of her. "Our twenty minutes is up."

"You're still in there," said Wells. "Get out as fast as you can."

"It won't be fast enough," Caitlin said. "If we keep up the frequency, these soldiers will have permanent damage."

"So?" Cisco said fiercely. "Caitlin, they're bad people. Do you see what they've done?"

"Of course I do," she snapped. The cold sent shivers down her arms and made her fierce. Not even Firestorm's warmth seemed able to touch her. "But that doesn't mean we have to become them. We have to be better. I thought that was who we were."

There was a pause. It was hard to tell if Cisco was a guilty. In this situation, Caitlin reasoned, it was hard to be anything but afraid.

"If I turn this off," Wells said slowly, "you'll have to get out of there on your own. It won't take long for those soldiers to recover."

"We have Firestorm," Caitlin said. "And the sonic gun." She nodded at the table and Cisco reached over to grab the weapon.

Another gap. Caitlin could only imagine what Wells was thinking, the plans and statistics and probabilities and scenarios that were likely spinning through his mind like tops. She didn't want to know any of them. Barry's fingers grasped at her shoulder and his breath stuttered.

"Please," he rasped.

Caitlin hoped, desperately, that she was making the right decision.

"Do it," she said decisively. Firestorm led the way to the door, and the other three shuffled forward.

"If you're sure—" Wells said. "Turning off the frequency now."

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," Cisco said, shrugging up the gun in his right hand.

The door swung open into the hallway, and it was silent: a different silence than before. This one seemed like the edge of yellow grass. A sun-scorched expanse of sky. A lioness' teeth, just visible beneath the snarled lip as she crouches. An anticipation, building, bursting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! As usual, reviews are appreciated-it seriously makes my day. Expect another update by Tuesday, at the latest. Just a few more chapters left!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I have internet (just in time, I must say), and now there are only three chapters left. Although I did far too much research about hypothermia, keep in mind that we are entering Questionable Medicine.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a common dream, and Barry had never been exempt: in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, zombies slunk through grimy streets and his legs were stuck with glue. Not literally, of course. There was nothing physically impeding him from sprinting away from the flesh-eating monsters, but a breakdown in his muscles at a molecular level made his legs burn with sluggishness. He moved through invisible muck, his adrenaline never enough to save him from extinction.

Now, he wasn't sure which he was—lethargic victim or living dead. Maybe both.

Even his arms, draped over Caitlin and Cisco's shoulders, were not enough. His legs simply would not support him, though every few steps he tried to re-plant his useless limbs on the ground. Mostly he was dragged. Carried, he preferred to think of it. Dragging was something you did to uncooperative dogs on a walk, or an overstuffed suitcase.

Caitlin and Cisco were doing their best, he knew, to keep him upright and supported, and he clenched his teeth to keep from alerting them to his discomfort. However, the further they got down the gray, post-apocalyptic hallways, the more his body betrayed him, the more he felt like he was decaying from the inside out. Most of his body was still fairly numb, but numb in a way that felt like pressure, like suffocation, and each step worked to jar him back into the knife's edge.

It occurred to him that he was merely hallucinating. It certainly felt that way as he managed to lift his head and really watch what was happening in front of him. It was something out of a sci-fi flick: every so often, people dressed in black would stagger down the hallway, but a man made of fire would burst in front of their eyes. Barry couldn't see what happened to the men in black, but he did know that Caitlin and Cisco quickened their pace each time this happened. Occasionally, Cisco would wheel around and aim his sonic gun at a soldier approaching from behind, and the hallway would echo with a scream. Sometimes, they would pass soldiers still on the ground, unconscious or clutching their heads. Barry remembered the feeling, how long it had taken for the ringing in his ears to stop.

"We're almost there," Caitlin muttered beside him, though it was unclear who she was speaking to. "Just through those doors." Her grip on his arm had tightened exponentially.

Barry wasn't sure how much time he had passed since being taken. It had felt like an eternity, but, knowing that to be unreasonable, he'd mentally settled on at least a day. Maybe two. When they'd begun their escape, and particularly when Caitlin muttered he words— _Just through those doors_ —he expected sunlight, the promising burst of day that would welcome him back to the world. After so long between dingy gray walls and frost, he expected sunlight to be his savior. However, when they burst through the main doors of the complex, he was forced to blink a few times. The world outside was still dark, tinged gray and blue from an approaching dawn and smudged with pink clouds on the horizon. Had it really only been one night? The thought disturbed him more than it ought to, and the darkness of the sky solidified in his stomach.

Then it erupted.

"Look out!"

Caitlin's warning crashed over the roar of a revving car engine. Barry looked up, instinctively afraid of the sound, and saw two jeeps full of soldiers screeching toward them. The lights surrounding the complex had gone out, but the headlights of the vehicles tore through the grey velvet air and through them.

Ronnie—Stein—Firestorm—took to the air. "Go!" he shouted.

They ran, Caitlin and Cisco hauling Barry forward, his own feet tangling over the ground. The open air burned his skin, filled his icy lungs with foam. A familiar white van lay just out of reach, doors still opened around bits of a destroyed fence. It waited, patiently.

_Pop, pop, pop._

He knew that sound, too. The air around them sizzled with heat and tension. Caitlin screamed, and the three of them dropped. Instinctively, Barry twisted, landing on his exposed arm, the relatively uninjured one. Still, the impact jarred his wrist and hand, momentarily wiped his senses from existence, dropped him in to a vat of ink.

He came to only a moment later, too out of breath to vocalize this new, intense hurt, and Caitlin and Cisco were already dragging themselves out of the dirt. The popping of gunfire lessened, the shots echoing sporadically. Barry could not stand. His friends heaved him forward, desperately, violently, no longer caring about short-term preservation, all the way to the van. Barry watched, as he was thrust inside, the bursts of fire and light that colored the night outside. Arcs of red and orange and yellow like solar flares. A thought, which somehow struck him in Eiling's voice:  _We are at war_.

The van door closed and he could no longer see the lights of the flames, but the rumble of the vehicle under him was something of a replacement.

The two conflicting voices in his mind sparred back and forth, forward and backward.

_Safe_.

_War._

_Safe_.

* * *

_Triage_ , Caitlin thought.  _Triage_.

Everything was blurry around the edges, every thought interrupted by Barry's sputtering cries as he dove in and out of consciousness. The floor of the van absorbed every bump in the road, every pothole, and each one launched her out of focus.

_Triage._

It was impossible.

However, when she heard the stutter in his breath, the low whine of too little oxygen, her emotional self was so terrified it fled, leaving room only for her professional self. Flooded with purpose, she placed a hand in the center of his chest, against the familiar lightning bolt that was now blackened, ruined. Bracing herself after another bump in the road, she began her compressions.

"Stay with me, Barry Allen," she said as she worked. "He didn't beat you. I won't let that happen."

After the first set of breaths, Barry's lips crusty with blood against hers, Cisco finally chanced to look back and realized what was happening.

"What can I do?" he asked, panicked, his unintentional swerve causing Caitlin to lose the rhythm of the second set of compressions.

"Keep driving," she said thickly.

And he did, revving the engine as he went.

Three sets of compressions and breaths later, once Caitlin was confident Barry's breathing was back to normal, she passed her fingers again through his hair.

"He's too cold," she said.

"The heat's broken in this van," Cisco reminded her. "Wait." In a flurry of movement, he ripped off his jacket and flung it back. Their eyes met for an instant, his saturated with unbridled fear.

She knew they were reflections of her own.

* * *

Barry had visions, half-dreams, none of which he was convinced was reality. The images were too confusing—swirling faces and gray carpets, a tingling across his body, a rush of breath and the panic of choking.

"Just a few more minutes. Almost there."

Always the sensation of speeding. Speeding while motionless. But never fast enough.

* * *

_In the empty cortex, a lightbulb flickered out. It had been sputtering for a few weeks, but nobody had bothered to change it. Now, burnt out, it cast half of the space into gray shadows._

_A cup of coffee, going cold, sat next to one of the computer monitors. On screen, a news stream murmured through the dimness. A ticker tape of blue words. A burst of red._

_"_ _One year since the mysterious disappearance of The Flash," the news anchor said, "and it seems Central City has a new savior. We are coming to you live from the press conference, General Wade Eiling of the US army has just taken the stage."_

_"_ _I am sure we are_  all  _still mourning the loss of our greatest hero, but we Americans will not settle for defeat." Eiling's drawling voice dripped onto the floor of the lab. "We strive to be better, to protect ourselves the best we can. Today is the dawn of a new age. We were all_  inspired  _by the Flash. We can now deliver on that imagination. Ladies and gentleman, I bring you a new breed of soldier, a new breed of_  super  _soldier. Our research, our development, is complete." He grinned. "America, allow me to introduce our protectors for a new age. In this world of ever-evolving threats, the Flash alone was never going to be enough._

_"_ _Now—we are better. We are_  faster.  _We are enough, and this is only just the beginning."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're out of the woods! Or are we?
> 
> I've done some rearranging of chapter material, but I'm really happy with how the next two will fall out. Hopefully one update later this week, and the last one next Tuesday. As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think! You guys rock.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the best! Thanks for all of your wonderful comments on the last chapter. We're down to the final two now and starting to wind down. The emotional devastation is far from over, though.
> 
> Enjoy Chapter 13!

The second time Barry came around, he was being lifted, and he woke yelling. He could feel, immediately, the changes in his body. Though he was no longer vertical, and no longer strapped down, the sterility of a medical environment still invaded every one of his senses and set his bones vibrating. Or perhaps it was the slight warmth he felt under the blinding circular light and the jacket draped over his middle: the numbness was retreating from his body and thawing out the violent shivers that had overtaken him previously.

"Sorry...sorry."

Caitlin's panicking was what caught his attention. Usually she was able to collect herself in a medical emergency, but her voice trembled. "God, Barry, I can't give you anything for this."

"The cold has slowed some of his healing," Cisco offered. "Maybe we can use that to our advantage? Maybe painkillers will work now."

"I d-don't want to risk it with the cold," Caitlin stammered. "But a saline drip—we need to warm him up—"

"Whatever you're doing, do it fast," Wells said. "The cold is wearing off, and Barry's wounds have already partially healed with the fragments still under his skin."

"I'm fine. It'll be fine," Barry tried to say, but his words tripped over themselves in his mouth.

The jacket was removed. A needle passed across his vision and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to steady himself. Shivering turned to vibrating, rattling.

"I need you to try to calm down," Caitlin said. "I can't get this needle in if you're vibrating like that."

"I don't need it."

"Barry-"

She placed a hand, warm, on the exposed part of his arm, just below the crook of his elbow where he was already bruising. The warmth, her sudden steadiness, the softness of the palm of her hand, sunk into him. He sucked in deep breaths, fighting the burn in his lungs, and gradually eased himself back into mere shivers. The IV line slid under his skin. He screwed up his eyes.

"Not gonna lie, this looks like it'll hurt like hell," Cisco offered. Unhelpfully.

"Better...out...than in," Barry said hoarsely. His teeth chattered so violently now he could barely speak. His unfocused eyes followed Caitlin's hands as they deposited the empty syringe haphazardly on a table and presented Cisco with a metal bowl.

"Try and focus on the light, okay?" Caitlin said. "Try to focus on anything else. I'll do my best to make this quick."

"You ever...plucked a porcupine before?" It was a stab at a joke, but nobody laughed, and Barry himself couldn't believe the sincerity of it.

"I'm sorry," Caitlin whispered once more.

Doctors always lied and gave the shot on the count of two. One whole second of lost time, one second of oblivion. It was supposed to lessen the shock of the pain, which was allegedly worse than the pain itself.

Caitlin didn't give a countdown, didn't even give a warning. Then again, maybe Barry had never left that threshold-he had been entrenched in the shock for too long. There were no degrees of drowning.

What a sight he must have made, he thought briefly after the first fragment was ripped from his chest, screaming into the white light that was supposed to give him back his breath.

* * *

_"_ _Look at this," Caitlin said. Cisco trailed her into the cortex, rubbing eyes which where ringed with dark shadows._

_"_ _It's too early for drama," he said in a low voice, collapsing in a heap into the chair. Caitlin pushed the cooling coffee toward him. He shook his head. "What are we looking at?"_

_Caitlin tapped at the keyboard a few times to turn up the volume. At Eiling's voice, Cisco immediately tensed, his face darkening even more than before._

_"_ _They've perfected their serum," Caitlin explained, unnecessarily. Cisco's eyes were fixed on the monitor, where a simulation was flashing in time with Eiling's explanation. "They actually did it. Soldiers with super-speed and super-healing."_

_"_ _No way," Cisco said. For the first time in months, his old flicker of enthusiastic curiosity was back, though still tinged with an undercurrent of dread. "I didn't think that was possible."_

_"_ _Impossible is just another Tuesday for us," Caitlin said hollowly. "This is bad. Do you realize what this means?"_

_She turned her eyes back to the screen. Eiling's face had reappeared, his forehead wrinkled. An aide was leaning over, lips moving stiffly._

_Eiling nodded. "Excuse me." He turned, and the feed cut back to regular news._

_"_ _What was that?" Cisco asked. Caitlin shrugged, turning the volume back down. The broadcasters, far from scientific geniuses, had begun trying to break down the development and benefits of the new serum in Eiling's absence. Their faces betrayed them—puzzlement but hopefulness, two things that shouldn't have gone together._

_"_ _I s'pose we need to do something," Cisco said automatically, a shadow of a familiar phrase. "You know…we can't let Eiling get away with this." He paused: an uncomfortable, weighted silence. "Can we?"_

_"_ _Can you?" came the echo._

_Caitlin stood automatically, startled. A fraction of a second later; papers around the lab fluttered. The lightbulb above them, just burnt out, flared briefly once more. Caitlin's hair swooped upward in a rush of wind. A thrill of goosebumps exploded down her skin. Then all was still._

_"_ _Can you let him get away with it?" the voice repeated._

_Caitlin felt light-headed, like she was on the verge of passing out, but at the same time, she was rooted to the spot._

_"_ _My God…" she said. "Barry?"_

_"_ _You'd stop at nothing to stop Eiling, right?" Barry stood there like a specter, his face gaunt, white, sharp, his hair longer than usual and hanging limply, into his eyes. "You'd stop at nothing to get justice. To save the world. To save your city. To save your friend."_

_Cisco was the first up, scrambling forward so earnestly he knocked a desk lamp to the floor. Before he could reach Barry, however, the speedster split sideways. A blur of evasion._

_"_ _You'd die, right?" he said. Though he was as pale and sickly-looking as the dead, his eyes—those once-kind brown eyes—were dark and roiling._

_"_ _Barry, we thought you were…" Caitlin choked out. She, too, moved around the desk toward him, wanting to comfort him, wanting to throw her arms around him and never let go. Judging by his ill-fitting gray clothes and bare, bleeding feet, he had just come from wherever he'd been held._

_With Caitlin, too, he dodged, his speed cracking and more unstable than before. He stood sizzling in the middle of the room, Caitlin and Cisco at diagonals, pressed back as if by an invisible bubble._

_"_ _How long?" he asked. Caitlin licked dry lips, unable to form a response. "_ How long _?"_

_"_ _One year," Cisco answered for her. "You've been missing for one year."_

_Barry rushed forward, appearing in a blink nose-to-nose with Cisco. Cisco stumbled backward, startled, catching himself on the desk._

_"_ _You say 'missing' like it's something active," Barry continued. "But you—" He looked at both of them viciously. "You stopped looking. You left me with_ him _."_

_"_ _We thought—"_

_Caitlin yelped. Her plea was cut short by Barry, who had appeared just in front of her with a lightning crack. He was much too close, those dark eyes fixed on her. They were not sharp, but lingering, viscous, steaming, like poison._

_"_ Dead _has never stopped you before," he said with a pointed look down at her wedding band._

_She gulped for breath. "I'm sorry…we can help you, we can…"_

_She screamed again as air was sucked away from her. In half a second, she had traveled from one end of the room to the other. Her back cracked against the wall and Barry's hands on her shoulders pinned her there. He smelled of antiseptic, metal._

_"_ _You made me into this," he said, "because you didn't care enough. Because you left me there to rot. Maybe Eiling was right. Maybe I was better off with him."_

_Caitlin choked, and a thick tear blazed its way down her cheek. Barry just stared at her, his features now seeming to flicker with static, his hands vices._

_"_ _Hey, man," Cisco said sharply from the other corner of the room, taking hesitant steps forward. "This isn't you. Just sit down. We'll help you. You're Central City's_  hero."

_Barry's mouth twitched downward, his dark eyebrows dropping. Then, with his eyes still boring into Caitlin's, he stretched his face into a half-grin._

_"_ _Am I?"_

Whoosh.

_Caitlin fell to the ground, hard. When she looked up, Cisco was also picking himself up from the floor, looking to her for some kind of confirmation. More loose sheets of paper floated down, dead skin cells, raining around them and rustling to the earth. Caitlin couldn't move, couldn't even speak. All around them was hard, unyielding emptiness._

_Barry was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The last chapter will be up Tuesday. As always, please leave a comment with your thoughts below-I love hearing from you.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! We've arrived-the last chapter of "One Second." I can't believe what a wild ride this story has been. You've all been so wonderful with your support, and hearing your thoughts every week has made the whole process so fun for me. This final chapter came out nearly double the length of any of the others, but I felt it would be unfair to split it up-so here it is, in all of its angsty glory!
> 
> Enjoy!

"He's out," Caitlin said, though she hardly had to. Barry's eyelids, which had been squeezed tightly together or else fluttering dazedly for the past half hour, had relaxed. Though his breathing was still hitched, the awful yelps and moans of pain—which Caitlin had once stoically accepted as part of the job—had ceased. It cast the lab into a strange, uncomfortable silence. Just sharp, tinny clangs as bloody metal spikes were dropped into the already-brimming silver bowl.

"Think we've passed the worst of it?" Cisco asked, grimacing. He was quite pale.

"Hard to say," Wells answered for Caitlin as she bent toward a particularly stubborn fragment in Barry's thigh. "The cold has certainly negated many of Barry's abilities, as was likely the intention. My guess is that these wounds healed before he was exposed." He motioned at Barry, not even flinching as Caitlin yanked out the metal spike.

"I think I'm gonna puke," Cisco said as the spike clattered into his bowl.

"Not on our patient, please," Caitlin said. The word  _patient_  bothered her the moment it came out of her mouth.  _Patient_  didn't sound right.  _Patient_ was their word for Barry mid-coma. It was a nameless, emotionless thing. Detached.

"You know, I've been trying to come up with a word or something for this situation," Cisco said. He eyed Barry's still form. "All I can think of is pincushion."

"How about sea urchin?" Wells suggested slyly. The ill attempt at humor was cut short by another clang in the pan.

"Finished," Caitlin said. She deposited the glorified tweezers on her side table and accepted the bowl of fragments from Cisco. "At least, with that bit."

"What can we do to help? Wells asked. Caitlin caught Cisco's frightened, apprehensive look at the bloodied, now-shivering Barry: the look of a cornered dog.

"Go check on Ronnie—Firestorm," she said finally. "See what you can do for them. I'm going to try to stabilize Barry and do what I can for his other injuries." She steeled herself, looking both of them in the eye. "I'll be fine on my own. Now go."

They'd been around her long enough to comply without complaint; after all, Cisco was looking as though he might follow through with his threat of vomiting, and Dr. Wells was one of their best shots for separating Ronnie and Stein again. He brushed her arm as he wheeled past, but it didn't give her the reassurance it had intended.

Alone in the medical bay, Caitlin reassessed. Her medical mind was telling her again to triage, but everything else threatened to shut down those trained processes.

_You're a doctor, damnit,_ she thought.  _Act like one_.

By sheer force of will, she shut down the part of her brain that was throwing a panic attack and moved toward Barry purposefully. There would be time to panic later. Right now her patient—her friend—needed her.

As her brain filled with a calming sort of buzzing, she began to process of cleaning Barry up. Unzipping the top of his uniform, she winced at the dozens of puncture marks, the fresh blood coating previously-dried tracks.  _Shut it off_ , she said.  _You're a doctor_.

Still, she couldn't help her mind wandering back to those agonizing minutes in the van, Barry's skin so cold he may as well have been dead. The desperate attempts to warm up his core, the frantic glances to figure out what was wrong—if he was going to die, or if his unconscious state was the result of something less severe. There was no way of knowing, in that old van, with Cisco speeding down abandoned roads, what he had been subjected to.

Then the next half hour, the process of discovery, which was almost worse than not knowing. Barry's half-lucidity, the sounds ripped from his throat as she ripped metal from his skin. In those moments, she couldn't help but feel like she was implicated, and whenever Barry would look at her with those bleary, hazed eyes, she would look away. She pretended not to hear the words torn out of him, the pleas of  _Stop, please…just stop…_

At least now, as she cleaned out his wounds, re-set his broken wrist, and wiped the blood from his face, he couldn't look at her.

When Cisco came back an hour later, she was just finishing with the bandaging.

"Hey," he said hesitantly. "How's it going?"

"Fine." Caitlin pulled up the thermal blankets and ignored Cisco's wince as he looked at Barry. The speedster had begun shivering in earnest now, his whole body shaking as if in seizure, his skin impossibly pale where it wasn't bruised. "Is Ronnie…?"

"They managed to separate themselves again," Cisco said. Caitlin's sigh of relief seemed detached, a part of her she had forgotten. "They're resting and speaking with Dr. Wells now. Barry?"

"Judging by the shivering, he's already warming up, which means his healing should start to kick in. It'll likely be a longer process than usual," she said matter-of-factly. "Puncture wounds. Blood loss from those wounds and multiple blood draws. Bruising, obviously. Electrical burns. Plus a broken wrist, broken nose, and hypothermia."

"Electrical burns?"

"Electrical shocks," Caitlin said flatly. "A common method of…interrogation…torture. On the plus side, nothing major is damaged. Hypothermia could have been worse. He'll recover…just fine."

At these words, she paused, unable to move, her throat suddenly stuck. All at once it hit her. She tried again to speak, her mouth dry, and dropped, landing hard in her chair and splitting at the seams. Cisco was at her side instantly, one hand wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her head to his chest.

It was a good thing, she thought again, that Barry couldn't see her. It was unbecoming for a doctor to do this—break down at her patient's bedside, sobbing violently, uncontrollably, over the sound of a heart monitor confirming life.

* * *

_"_ _Grief gets the best of us. That's what I've always thought."_

_"_ _Certainly. But surely this…"_

_"_ _It's impossible to know what happens in a person's mind. Impossible to know if they were born a villain or made into one. Y'know, if something just snaps."_

_"_ _You've heard what they're calling her?"_

_"_ _What's that?"_

_"_ _Killer Frost."_

* * *

"Hey, dude, you with us?"

No, he didn't want this. He didn't want any of this.

"Barry?"

He shuddered and pushed himself deeper into the comforting darkness.

A hundred miles away, test tubes full of blood went missing. Important documents, clipboards, entire computer systems simply vanished.

As did a certain General.

A hundred miles away, a man removed his yellow mask in the muck of a sewer, his eyes red-hot with anger.

* * *

Everything had been so jumbled in Barry's life lately, he wasn't entirely sure what was real and what was a dream. On the one hand, he thought as he pried open his eyes, his vision was much too unstable to be hooked to reality. On the other hand, the steady beeping, the contour of a hospital bed, the chills running through him all felt familiar, tangible, in a way that dreams never did. He blinked, trying to reconcile sight with feeling, and all of a sudden a black mug obscured his vision.

"Here, drink this."

"Give him a minute, Cait."

The mug retreated. Moving his stiff neck as little as possible, Barry followed it and alighted upon Caitlin, looking battle-weary but relieved in a metal folding chair. Cisco, beside her, also looked ragged around the edges—then again, Barry probably shouldn't have been judging. As he shifted in bed, he was reminded of the aches in his muscles, the various damages to his face and chest. Everything was bandaged neatly, secured, much too clean.

"How are you feeling?" Caitlin prompted.

There was no way to answer honestly. "C-c-cold," he managed, even though the word hardly seemed strong enough. Caitlin again brandished the cup.

"Drink this," she instructed. "We need to work on getting your body temperature back up. You're lucky none of your extremities were compromised."

"L-lucky." He lifted his left arm and was reminded painfully that his wrist was broken. He winced and dropped the arm. "Well, almost lucky." With the other hand, he accepted the mug of what smelled like chicken broth and pushed himself shakily up into a semi-sitting position. His words, or perhaps the struggle following, sparked a still quiet. He drank. The soup burned down his rough throat.

After a few sips, he unsteadily handed back the mug. "W-what h-happened?"

"That depends," Cisco said, glancing at Caitlin. "What do you remember?"

Barry tried shifting, but his muscles were so tight that he fell back and scrunched up his eyes. Localized pain he was used to; he wasn't prepared for this all-encompassing hurt. "Eiling," he finally replied. "Scientists." The word, and the memory, made him practically gag. Caitlin and Cisco's eyes flickered, and he quickly regained his composure. "Then you g-going all sucker punch and Ronnie b-blasting his way out with f-f-fire. Ronnie…"

"Is just fine," Caitlin responded, urging the mug of steaming soup again. Barry gladly received it, despite not being able to lift his arms above the level of his chin. The broth created a pit of warmth in his stomach, and the sides of the mug seeped feeling back into his fingers. "He and Professor Stein were able to separate again. After…blasting his way out of the facility, as you so eloquently put it."

"We couldn't have done it without him," Cisco said. "Those guys outside had guns. Lots of them."

Barry decided, based on Caitlin and Cisco's hesitancy, that he wouldn't be getting any detailed information for a while, so he took another sip and dropped his trembling hand to his chest. "Thanks for doing it, anyway," he said quietly. "I wasn't sure I'd ever get out of there."

"We wouldn't have left you there," Caitlin said softly.

"It was dangerous," Barry said. "Too dangerous for you guys."

"It was necessary, man," Cisco said.

"You could have been killed," Barry insisted.

"You could've had a lot worse," Caitlin said.

"A lot of things could have happened," Cisco cut in. "Let's just be thankful that they didn't."

The hot mug was burning Barry through his bandages, so he opted again to sip. It seemed the right thing to do, given the stillness that followed. He hated the sound of the heart monitor. It always made him feel like he was dying. A wave of pain overtook him, and he convulsed once more. All of it felt exceedingly personal, and he wished the two of them would stop staring.

"I t-take it this isn't going to be a quick fix?" he said at last.

"You went through trauma, Barry." Caitlin took the mug back from him. It was getting too heavy to hold. "These things aren't supposed to be quick fixes."

They knew too much about him—Caitlin and Cisco. They had likely discovered the account of his hours in the facility, they had fabricated their own narratives, they had catalogued his injuries and his exhaustion like they were scientific facts. The thought made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, the heat flow to the hollows of his cheeks. Their eyes bore into him, searching him, constructing sympathy and concern from a story of their own creation. They didn't know what had happened—didn't know the words and the fear and the hours of useless wailing—but he was sure they'd guessed it. He'd have to tell it, too, eventually.

Suddenly, Eiling's face flashed behind his closed eyelids. He jerked to alertness again, not realizing that he'd drifted off. Caitlin and Cisco were still there, watching. He listened to the heart monitor slow, gradually, tried to wipe at his face.

"Thanks, anyway," he said, in a stunted attempt to continue the conversation. "Thanks for saving me." Then, the truth: "I wish you didn't have to see this."

His hand shook so badly from cold and panic he was forced to drop it before he could fully scrub away the wetness from his bruised cheeks.

"No," Caitlin said. "You've been so brave—"

"I wasn't brave," Barry said hoarsely. "I b-begged him…I just wanted it to stop…he b-beat me. He won."

"He didn't beat you," Cisco said.

"That's not what it feels like."

"Listen," Caitlin said. "We're here, and you're safe now. We're all safe. To me, that sounds like a victory. And not a small one, either."

Barry paused, clenching his jaw as he rode a fresh wave of pain. Caitlin and Cisco waited.

"I feel like crap," he said, finally answering Caitlin's first question. It was accompanied by a watery half-chuckle; it was the understatement of the century, but again, it somehow felt sufficient.

Caitlin and Cisco both chuckled with him, the breach opened, and some of the tension siphoned away.

"Just imagine what Eiling will be feeling once Dr. Wells is through with him," Cisco said.

Barry attempted a smile at this.

"I'm not sure even he deserves one of Wells' famous stern lectures," he said. A spasm of pain stopped him, and he grimaced. "Actually, I take that back."

Another shudder rippled through his body, and he couldn't help the slight whine, his abused body betraying itself. Unexpectedly, Caitlin reached forward and grabbed his hand, and he was brought back to his time in that cold room, her hands brushing the frost out of his hair, her presence itself a reassurance that he would be alright.

"You deserve so much better, Barry Allen," she said.

He considered his, wrapped his stiff fingers around hers. His attempted smile tugged at his split lip, but in that moment, he didn't care.

"Maybe," he said, looking both of them in the eye. He saw it now, the snapshot of this reality: the three of them were all there, alive, whole. The memory of the facility, the threat of Eiling and everything he had done, would creep up to haunt them, but not now. Now they were here, healing, temporarily shielded from the worlds that threatened to crush them. Barry blinked, and his own world—Caitlin and Cisco and the beep of the heart monitor—remained. "Right now, I don't think I'd have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin!
> 
> Like I've said from the beginning, thank you so much for giving this story your time and attention. It definitely pushed me, but it was also such a blast! I honestly cannot express my gratitude to those who came back week after week, to those who subscribed and favorited and reviewed and all that jazz. This community is the best.
> 
> I'm not done with you yet, either! Keep a lookout for a few standalone fics coming out soon, including a short companion piece to this fic (which I'm hoping to work on next). Because I cannot get enough of these characters, and telling their stories makes me happy.
> 
> Once more, a shameless plug to my Tumblr, pennflinn, where I love discussing everything and anything Flash. I'm always happy to take requests for fics!
> 
> Thanks again-till next time,
> 
> Penn


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